


Heaven Sent, Heaven Damned

by Mango_Lioncat



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: ALL ABOARD THE ANGST TRAIN, Angst, Canon-compliant more or less, Drama, Drinking & Talking, F/M, Feels, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Manipulation, Minor Character Death, Minuteman Ending, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, and falls in love, doesn't actually happen in fic, focuses mainly on nick and nora, let me say that again SLOW. BURN., lying, mob boss nora, nick doesn't know, occurs after main story is resolved, so watch for that, talked about abstractly, there will be explicit nsfw scenes later hon hon hon, whoops, will change to explicit then
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:30:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25230148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mango_Lioncat/pseuds/Mango_Lioncat
Summary: Months after the fall of the Institute, Detective Nick Valentine takes on a case for the disappearance of one Nelson Latimer, and unknowingly sends himself on the trail for someone known as the Angel- an urban legend in the Commonwealth known for striking swiftly and without warning on unsuspecting victims, killing them seemingly without purpose or reason in their sleep. On his hunt, Valentine encounters Nora Connors, a smooth-talking woman of mysterious origin, who's purr is far worse than her bite (or the swing of her machete); is it any wonder the poor synth finds himself falling head-over-heels for her? Unfortunately for him, there's far more to Nora than Nick could ever prepare (or want) to know.heed the tags, kids!
Relationships: (rather brief tho im sorry), Female Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine, John Hancock/Female Sole Survivor, also preston and danse are boyfriends you cant change my mind
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	1. Prologue/Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I started writing this in... uhh 2017 I think? Idk it's been a while. Spent a year writing it, then got distracted and haven't finished the ending since and also writers block. Currently there's over 30 chapters written, just over 126,000 words. Really close to finishing writing it, just gotta edit the thing and post it. It's been in my head so long and I really think it's a story worth telling.
> 
> For clarification as to the story set-up in regards to the game: went with the Minuteman ending so the Prydwen and Railroad are still operational, happens post-main story ending where the Institute is destroyed.
> 
> In this narrative for the sake of the story, Nora never met Nick Valentine or Ellie but was able to accomplish what she did, anyway (not much of the focus is on the main story of the game, anyway, so dont think about it too hard since knowing Nick is so plot-essential for things to progress in the game). Nora was acquainted with all the other companions but didn't really befriend them until after.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this- I've certainly had a fun time writing it. please leave a comment- would love to hear your thoughts
> 
> thank you and happy reading <3

Prologue:

Holding the smoking gun was more than a metaphor, in this case, because the woman dressed in boiled leather armor was _literally_ holding the smoking gun.

_No_ , she thought distantly as she watched the body fall to the ground in a dull thud. In that moment, she felt her entire body flush with cold, like all the warmth in her body was draining out from her feet, and Nora recognized this emotion for what it was: fear, plain and cold.

“Okay! Stop shooting!” a hoarse voice cried. Trish, in her silver suit, held up both her hands in front of her face, wanting to surrender. “I’ll get you in on the deal, okay?! Just stop!”

_He’s dead_ , is all the woman with the gun could think. _I just took someone’s son away, somebody’s_ child _, somebody’s_ baby _._

The cold feeling in her gut churned, bringing up nausea and the urge to vomit. It rose to the back of her throat, but she swallowed it down, and she forced the tears away from her eyes.

Trish carried on, pleading for her life, offering to hand over caps, guns, drugs _, anything_ , if it meant she could live.

The Woman Holding the Gun blinked, the sickness in her transforming into something dark, and cold, and vengeful. _This was_ her _fault; someone needs to pay_.

The Woman whistled sharply, and her loyal dog came trotting back to her, his ears flattened over his head and his jowls turned up in a snarl. The fur along his spine bristled, and he turned back towards the ghoul woman with an audible and terrifying snarl.

“Please! Let me go!” Trish continued to plead. “I’ll never say a word, never let anyone know you were here! I’ll forget this ever happened!”

The Survivor sheathed her machete into it’s holster across her back, and let her hand fall limply to her side. “I know,” her voice came out soft and maternal. “You wouldn’t tell a soul.”

Relief washed over Trish’s face. “Oh thank you, thank you! I promise, I won’t tell anyone! No one will ever kno-”

Her voice cut off as the Survivor lifted her arm again, now holding a common pipe pistol in one hand. “I never said I would let you live, Trish. Besides-”

_BANG!_

Trish’s body fell to the blood-stained ground, her face formed into one final expression of shock as red blood seeped from the bullet wound in her forehead. The Survivor tossed the pipe pistol towards the heap of dead bodies, unable to stop the shaking in her hands as she looked at the ones dead. Nelson Latimer’s body lay on the cobblestones, his eyes gaping wide in fear, his clothes torn from the bullets that had burrowed into his skin from the gunfight.

The Survivor felt the nausea rise again, but she melded it back into the cold darkness that churned deep into her being. She lifted her head to the night sky and took in a deep, long breath. The smells of the murky riverside brought a small sense of comfort, but did nothing to slow the adrenaline that coursed through her body. At her side, Dogmeat whimpered, once again relaxed after the sense of danger had passed.

Nora reached down a hand to pat his head, her fingers playing with his large ears as he tilted his head to nuzzle her. “Good boy,” she mumbled. The adrenaline in her body began to slow, replaced by an aching sense of exhaustion after what had happened. She sighed out slowly, “C’mon, let’s go home.”

~months later~

The Institute had fallen, and she wanted to be alone.

Sanctuary had grown crowded after helping that Preston guy (more settlers were coming to the place by the day) and Nora just wanted to have some time to herself. It had been a difficult road taking the Institute down by herself; she did meet interesting people along the way, like that mayor in Goodneighbor, the pompadour-wig-wearing Deacon, snappy Piper in Diamond City, and hired-gun MacCready, but in the end, Dogmeat was her only companion, and the people she met would be her distant allies. Nothing more, nothing less.

She didn’t tell Preston she was leaving (he would figure that out on his own when he realized she wasn’t there). She simply woke up, took her essentials with her, and headed out towards the Boston ruins with Dogmeat.

She settled on a rooftop sheltered between two taller buildings. The taller ones cast a shadow just high enough so she could build a small shelter where no one could see her with a wood panel above her head and three little walls to keep out the elements. It did nothing against rad storms, but Nora always had enough rad-away and Rad-X to deal with that. Her home was a small hovel, nearly impossible to trace and just as difficult to get to unless one was familiar with the rooftops.

By day, she would go traverse the ruins of Boston, clearing out her own area of Raiders and Supermutants as they came through, and oftentimes had limited contact with actual people. After a while, her territory began to expand closer and closer to Diamond City, but the Survivor held back, afraid of meeting people, afraid of what trouble it would bring, especially after what happened all those months ago. Dogmeat seemed to do better when they were on their own, anyway.

Someone first made contact with her as she and Dogmeat were walking home after a hunt, the sun warm on her back as they walked in and out of the shadows from the ruined skyscrapers, a mole rat slung over her shoulder.

“Excuse me, are you-”

The person who had managed to sneak up on Nora didn’t get a chance to finish their sentence as the Survivor whipped out her machete, swinging it towards the person’s neck and stopping right at the edge of their skin. The person, who Nora now realized to be a small woman, squeaked feebly as she held up her hands in surrender.

Nora didn’t let down her guard, despite knowing instantly that the woman wasn’t armed with much. “Who are you. What do you want,” her voice slid out coldly.

The woman swallowed against the cold steel pressed into her neck. “P-please. I-I’ve heard about you. The Survivor of that Vault, right?”

Nora narrowed her eyes. “What’s it to you?”

“You killed Trish, right? The chem supplier for Diamond City?”

Dread filled Nora’s gut, and her stomach dropped into her feet as memories came swirling back to her. “So what if I did?” she snarled. “What’s it to you?”

The small woman licked her lips, casting her eyes around nervously, “I-It’s nothing to me. I-I just heard that you killed her in return for caps, right?”

Nora’s hand clenched around her machete, and something flashed behind her eyes that the woman recognized as truth, and something akin to hope flared in the meek, mousy woman before her. She fiddled with her hands nervously. “W-would you be willing to do it again?”

A wave of confusion hit Nora and it met with an equally large wave of fear. “Again?” Nora echoed. Her arm slacked a bit on the machete, and she finally stepped back a pace, allowing her machete to hang at her side as she gazed oddly at the little woman. “You. . . want me to kill someone? For caps?”

It’s not like this was something new. People were asking Nora for favors all the time, whether clearing out a camp of raiders or super-mutants… or taking out an evasive enemy. It was just.. this woman didn’t look the type to make that kind of request.

The woman nodded timidly, and Nora suddenly became aware of how many people could be listening in on their conversation without realizing it. At her side, Dogmeat whimpered, and she turned her glaring expression to the would-be customer. “Alright. Come with me. We’ll go to my office, figure some things out.”

The woman looked confused at ‘office,’ but said nothing as she meagerly followed the Survivor. The two weaved in and out of buildings until Nora led her to a rickety and rusted old ladder going up one building. It led to a wide expanse of rooftops, mazes connecting with creaky planks of wood. The woman kept up rather well, and eventually the two found their way to where Nora had set up her little dwelling. Dogmeat jumped onto overhangs and slid through gaps in the walls, slipping into the little shelter and immediately settling down on their shared bed (an old mattress with a few thready blankets for warmth).  
  
The home was a shack more than anything else- just a small and wooden shelter with a tin roof, nowhere near professionally made so that slants of sun and dust easily slipped through the gaps. It wasn’t much, and surely a far cry from the life Nora used to have- but for now, in this time, it was enough. And Nora didn’t need anyone else besides Dogmeat, anyway.

“So tell me,” Nora said as she tossed some of her belongings onto the springy mattress, careful to avoid Dogmeat curled up with his head resting on one pillow, “why does a sweet little lady like you want someone killed?”

Nora didn’t often believe in stupid questions, but she knew hers was before she even finished saying anything. It was hard to tell in the light of the fading sun, but she could recognize a battered woman anywhere. After working as a lawyer before the bombs fell, she was used to a number of women like this, making themselves small as possible, trying to cover any exposed skin, flinching and falling into silence as soon as their husbands entered.

Physical, emotional, and mental abuse, poisoned relationships, marital rape; she had seen it all, and all the signs were present with this woman now. She kept her shoulders hunched forward in a subconscious effort to be smaller, and her shirt sleeves went all the way to her wrists. It was hard to tell in the orange of the sunset, but Nora could still see the bruise blossoming over the woman’s eyes and the marks around her neck that were surely from someone’s hands. Nora knew the answer to her own question, but she waited for the woman to say for herself as the Survivor leaned against the back of a roof.

“My-my husband,” the woman stammered. “I want you to- I want you to- to kill my husband.”

“Hmm,” Nora mumbled quietly, nodding. “Okay. . . Any particular reason?”

The woman cast her eyes down as she shifted restlessly from foot to foot. “I have my own reasons,” she murmured, and Nora noticed the woman clenching her fists. “And I need it to look like an accident,” she added, looking up, seemingly emboldened as she spoke out for the first time in.. who knows how long. “I can’t have anyone suspect that I hired a, erm, that is, someone to-”

“You can’t let anyone know that you hired a hit man to kill your husband,” Nora filled in the gaps, plain and clear for her. She crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed as she thought about it. The woman watched her quietly, awaiting her answer. After a good handful of seconds, Nora lifted her head to meet eyes with her customer. “I’ll do it,” she replied. “It’ll look like an accident.”

Tears dripped down the woman’s eyes, but they weren’t tears of sorrow, for Nora saw the relief buried in those burning irises.

Chapter 1

Of all the people who could entire the private eye’s office, the last person Detective Valentine ever expected was Malcolm Latimer.

The rich man was obviously uncomfortable; his arms held straight at his sides as he moved stiffly through the small office, like touching a single item would stain his hands or clothes for the rest of eternity. Valentine looked up from beneath his fedora, not bothering to hide the tone of surprise from his voice, “Malcolm Latimer, as I live and breathe.” He smirked, the irony of that statement not lost on him, and the Upper-Stand citizen grimaced. “What can I do for you?”

Malcolm edged his way over to the desk at the front where Ellie sat. He tapped nervous and anxious fingers onto the hardwood, his brow forming a grimace behind his dark sunglasses. “I-I just want you to know that-that this is the last place I would ever go to.”

Ah, of course. Needed to get rid of that silly pride before the conversation could actually be productive. “Of course,” Valentine allowed, with a bow of his head. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from a man who comes from such a position as yourself.” The stroking of Latimer’s ego honeyed the sarcasm buried at the core of the detective’s words, but they were lost on the rich man.

Latimer seemed to straighten his spine a bit at the praise. “Well, of course. Good; I’m glad you understand.” He cleared his throat, and inched his way closer so he stood in front of the desk. “I-ah, I have a case for you.”

Valentine’s ears perked up immediately. “Oh really?” he asked, unable to hide some of the disbelief in his voice, and a taunt slipped out, “Jewels go missing? Suspect your wife is having a fling with some guy? Misplaced caps?”

Latimer managed to straighten his back even further with indignation. “What? No, of course not, nothing like that! I-It’s my son.” The man took in a nervous breath, then let it out with a shudder. “He’s missing, and I-I think someone has killed him.”

Detective Valentine raised an eyebrow at that (or what could be excused for as an eyebrow), and nodded towards the seat in front of the desk. “Alright then, go ahead and take a seat, Latimer, and we’ll get started. Ellie?”

His loyal secretary, clad in her finest pink skirt and scarf, didn’t even need to hear his requests before she pulled out a pencil and paper to take notes with. She sat down in a nearby chair, notepad in hand, eyes alert and attentive. “Ready when you are, Nick,” she allowed.

Valentine nodded, and turned back to Latimer, who had taken his place in a continuing air of nervousness. He fidgeted in his seat, like he was ready to spring up at the smallest sign of trouble. The synth regarded the Upper-Stand citizen with his stark yellow gaze. “So, Mr. Latimer, why don’t you start at the beginning, and tell us about your son. His name is Nelson, right?”

Latimer nodded, “Yes, Nelson, he’s just turned 17 years old, and he’s been missing for a couple of months. Recently, he’s been disappearing off and on for maybe a week, at most, getting into trouble, but he always comes home.” The wealthy man of Diamond City licked his lips while Valentine watched astutely and silently, knowing that Latimer would keep speaking to defend himself. “And I know he’s practically an adult, and he can do what he wants, but-but his mother and I are worried. We’ve hired all walks of people to try to locate him, but we’ve come up empty.” Latimer pressed his lips together as he stared at the office wall, looking like he was on the verge of tears.

Detective Valentine observed everything about Malcolm Latimer, and his optics shifted to the desk in front of him as he thought quietly to himself. “Could just be your boy ran off and got into some trouble he shouldn’t have. Do you have the names of any known associates of him?”

Latimer frowned in thought. “No-I don’t think. . . maybe one. Henry Cooke. You know the bartender in the Colonial Taphouse? I think he was involved with my son in some way, exchanging caps for drugs, I think.”

The detective couldn’t stop the dread that filled his gut. “Yeah,” he assured, “I know him, and I also know he’s currently _missing_.”

Latimer huffed out an irritated breath. “Yes, I know that. I’ve sent out Triggermen to try to find out whatever they could to bring back my son or Cooke, but the only thing I found is that a rumble between two parties happened down by the riverside at Back Street Apparel about the same time my son went missing.”

Valentine raised an eyebrow at the thought of trigger-happy triggermen trying to do a detective’s job, but he kept his mouth shut. “Gunfights happen all the time in the Commonwealth; it could just be a coincidence that it happened around the time of your son’s disappearance.” Not to mention the band of raiders that often frequented that one boat on the river. Still, worth looking in to.

The wealthy man didn’t look so certain and he leaned in towards Detective Valentine at his next assessment, “Regardless, the only corpses on the location found belonged to just one of the participating parties.” Behind his sunglasses, Nick could see Latimer glance around, as if ensuring their privacy, and whispered in a conspiring manner. “I-I think this group was an attack by the Angel.”

The entire room stilled at this whisper. Behind Valentine, the scratching of pencil on paper stopped as Ellie’s hand ceased writing. The detective could feel his secretary’s eyes on him, and the tension in the room suddenly weighed down all present. With a heavy-laden sigh, Valentine looked up to Malcolm Latimer behind his fedora, and he sat back in his chair. “Mr. Latimer,” he started, “I’m not sure if we’ll be able to help you.”

He bristled at Valentine’s quick-cut decision. “What?! Why not?”

Valentine huffed out an irritated breath. “You know very well why, Mr. Latimer. The Angels are an enigma; no one has confirmed an actual sighting by them. It’s just an urban legend.” A new one, too. One that only just popped up recently, after the destruction of the Institute a short while ago.

Latimer grimaced. “That’s ridiculous, everyone knows about the murders acted out by the Angel, the calling cards, the way the Angel can mysteriously travel from one side of the Commonwealth to the other in almost no time at all.” The man acted as if this closed his case securely, like that was enough to convince the skeptical Valentine.

The detective glared from beneath his hat, withholding another irritated sigh. “And how does that in any way relate to the possible disappearance of your son?”

Latimer shifted his weight where he sat, again reminding Valentine how uncomfortable his guest was, and the rich man’s voice stammered out uncertainly. “I-I actually do have a possible witness to what happened.”

It took all of Valentine’s effort not to groan with exasperation. Forcing his voice to emit a level of calm clarity, he asked lowly, “And, may I ask, what this witness said?”

Latimer nodded, “The man I spoke to, he said he saw the gunfight go down by the waterfront. He was a ways away, so he couldn’t tell who the fight was between, but he could hear the voice of a ghoul begging for her life.” Latimer did his nervous twitch again as he shifted in his seat. “Apparently, the sole individual fighting the ghoul killed her in cold blood, then left. But the thing is-” and Latimer leaned in close again to whisper, “on the stranger’s back, my informant saw a pair of white wings beneath the armor.”

Valentine could feel some of his own unconscious excitement start to spark, much to his chagrin, and he forced himself to hide it as he leveled his voice, “Wait, one of your men _saw_ the Angel?”

Latimer nodded again, and Valentine waved his hand towards Ellie, signaling for her to pick up her note-taking. The sound of pencil on paper picked up at once, and Nick leaned in to his client, golden optics watching him intently. “Tell me what this person looked like.”

At this point, Latimer had the good grace to look embarrassed, and he looked away momentarily to avoid making eye contact. “Uh, well, my informant didn’t get a very good look at the individual, just that they wore heavy armor and seemed to have some kind of shirt beneath their armor with angels’ wings on the back.”

Valentine felt a bit of disappointment from the lack of details, and he sat back in his chair. “So what, male, female?” he prompted.

Latimer shrugged hopelessly and admit, “Couldn’t tell. Whoever they were, they disappeared after that.”

The detective nodded thoughtfully, heaved a weary sigh, and tapped his synthetic fingers against his desk. “Well alright, then,” he allowed quietly.

Hearing the note of finality in the synth’s voice, Malcolm Latimer looked up hopefully. “So you’ll take the case?”

Valentine nodded solemnly. “Yeah. I’ll take the case.” Even if it didn’t lead to anything related to the angels, he was obligated by a sense of duty to a grieving father, and a worried mother. Nelson Latimer needed to be found.

In a flourish, Nick stood up, adjusting his fedora over his head and tightening his tie by just a hair. He smoothly withdrew a pistol from one of the drawers in the office as the detective ensured he had everything he needed. “I’m going to get to work immediately. Ellie will fill you in on the details in regards to payment and process. It’s 200 caps upfront.”

The Great Synth Detective didn’t get any time to hear Malcolm Latimers response, because as soon as he finished speaking, he was out the door and into the throng of Diamond City, his steps echoing on the dusty ground. The detective pulled the collars of his trench coat closer to his neck, unable to hide the excited puff of air that escaped his synthetic breath.. He needed to fight the urge to skip as he headed out on his investigation.

_A case, finally, and hopefully it’ll be a good one_.


	2. Surely They're Not Connected

Along the river, Valentine walked up and down the murky water, his nose wrinkling from the rank odors that permeated his sensors. Seaweed coated the stones underfoot, and in the bright Commonwealth day, the detective was able to easily find his way to the Back Street Apparel Mr. Latimer described.

_Ah_ , and easy enough, there it was. A pile of bodies at the riverside. Nick stopped several paces away, blinking as he focused on absorbing every detail of the corpses. He approached cautiously, wary not to step on anything that would disturb the scene of the event, and counted the bodies. A few trigger-men corpses lay on each other in a heap, and a woman ghoul in a silver suit and fedora lay a few paces away from them, her eyes glazed as she stared up at nothing.

Nick’s sensors detected the scent of rotting flesh, and his tongue curled reflexively to it. He imagined how his eyes might water if they were made of synthetic bio-material rather than metal machinery, but unfortunately, all he had was the shared memory from the _old_ Nick Valentine.

Jarring himself from that thought process, the synthetic man shook his head, blinking away from that trail of thought back to the present. He focused again on the pile of corpses before him. Despite it being months since the actual event occurred, the bodies were still pretty well preserved. Valentine chalked it up to the radiation levels all the humans across the ‘Wealth were exposed to. It made the most sense to him, at least.

Nick again counted the bodies. Three trigger-men and the ghoul woman in the suit. The corpses told a story all right, one that had Nick stumped in the most delightful way possible.

_Where was Nelson Latimer’s body?_

The boy’s corpse was no where to be seen, and what boggled Valentine’s mind even further, was that there seemed to be no evidence of a second party engaging in this gun fight whatsoever. No blood, no corpses, no sign that anyone had even shot these poor saps. If anything, an outsider looking on the scene might have thought the bodies commit some kind of suicide pact, or that they were jumped. But one person couldn’t have done all this . . . Could they?

Nick frowned, puzzled and intrigued by the developments this case was progressing. He walked slowly around the bodies, then stilled when he caught sight of a faint but present light brown trail, like something was being dragged and scraped along the ground. It took only a moment for Nick to recognize it as being dried blood, and that it originated from tangled bodies on the ground. For a moment, the detective considered the chance the body might have been pulled away by a group of savage dogs, but as soon as the thought entered his mind, he dismissed it. The trail of dried blood was too uniform and precise, too intentional. Whoever had dragged this body away knew what they were doing and where they were going.

Latching onto a mood that was somehow somber but anticipating at the same time, Nick set off to follow the trail of dried blood, scanning the environment for any other give-aways on what this person was like. Who would go to a pile of bodies and take just one away? And for what reason? What purpose would a dead body serve?

As the trail wore on and Nick got further to the edges of the city, the amount of blood became less and less until the only clues he had to go on would be a smear or two of blood, separated between several paces of walking.

The detective continued walking. He crept over a bridge cautiously, leaving the ruins of Boston as he entered the skeletal forest. After that, he didn’t have to walk far before he caught sight of what lay ahead. Startled and caught off-guard, Nick stopped walking as he stared, blinked, then walked forward the rest of the way to the mound of overturned dirt.

Valentine stood before the grave, a frown marring his features as he took it in. Confusion beat at him in waves like an ocean as he studied it. The grave was recently dug. A pile of crumbling and dry flowers were placed at its’ head, the stems buried beneath the dirt. Two thin and flat planks of wood made a cross in the ground, held together with string. Valentine narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, recognizing the initials scratched into the wood.

_N.M._

This was starting to get interesting. The old synth heaved a great sigh with his hands buried into his pockets. He tilted his head up to the sky, now starting to gray from storm clouds, and dug into his trench coat for a cigarette to help him think. When his hand closed around the box, the paper crunched, and he realized with a flash of disappointment that the box was empty. He grunted in annoyance and tossed it to the side, resolving to observe the grave without the help of the cig.

He wanted to chew on something while he thought, and instead rocked back and forth as he contemplated these new developments.

Who would bother to go to the trouble to bury a young and reckless man like Nelson Latimer? Without telling the family, no less? Maybe it was someone who felt guilty about his death? But who would feel guilty about killing this stuck-up and spoiled brat? A killer with a conscious? Hardly.

Nick tapped his foot on the ground thoughtfully. Perhaps it was someone who felt responsible for Nelson’s death? But who? Maybe someone in the opposing party that killed all those people?

Valentine observed the grave as a thoughtful frown marred his features. He tapped his fingers against his side in rapid sequence as he tried to put all the pieces of the puzzle together. He tried to envision he scene, tried to get a firm understanding of what transpired, but the pieces all fell flat.

He carefully examined the area around the grave, studying the footprints around it, but it was no use with how many surrounded it. Even if the grave had been dug recently, too many strangers and passer-bys had walked over the dirt so any clue on the undertaker was impossible to determine.

“No good,” Valentine muttered bitterly, and turned to make the regretful march back to Diamond City. He would be able to think there and get his ducks in order, hopefully. _Dammit_. If Malcolm Latimer had bothered to come in before hiring those trigger-men goons, the private eye might have had a chance at cracking it.

He could sift through some of the details when he got back, and maybe talk to the trigger-man that claimed to have seen Latimer Junior’s murder.

The detective nodded to the guards at the entryway to Diamond City as he walked in, and the synth was greeted with the familiar and open stadium of the city. He paused only briefly at the top of the stairs to observe the people moving and bustling around beneath him, and he started down the stairs.

As Nick descended into the city, he decided to take the longer way and go through the main market circle and see the happenings-on of the cityfolk.

He just passed Dr. Sun’s medical corner when the synth stopped as he observed something peculiar before him.

A stranger -presumably from the Commonwealth- was loading packs of supplies into the Home Plate corner. A large brown and black dog with a red bandanna around its’ neck followed the newcomer closely, looking at all who approached while occasionally barking in excitement, only to be shushed by the person unpacking their weapons and belongings into Home Plate.

Nick appreciated the newcomer of average height with dark ebony hair. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged up his lips as he approached the outsider and called amicably, “Welcome to Diamond City. You must be new to this much activity.”

Long black hair flew about the stranger’s face as the plain-faced but somehow startlingly _beautiful_ woman stood to her feet, a heavy box hefted in her muscular arms. Nick would have flushed or paled or _something_ if he was human, but he only smiled breezily, his face masking the surprise in his gut as he met bold green eyes. He didn’t miss the typical once-over as she looked him up and down, appraising how dangerous he was, before she nodded, and smiled almost carefully in return. “It’s that obvious?” she asked.

“Don’t worry,” he assured, “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

The dog at her side, now alerted to the newcomer, approached carefully. The woman watched the canine as he sniffed Nick’s hand, then barked, and wagged his tail. He returned to the woman, and she looked at Nick with a considerably greater amount of warmth in her eyes. She balanced the box onto one arm in an effort to hold her hand out to Nick. “Guess I should introduce myself. I’m Nora. That’s Dogmeat.”

Nick shook her hand with his good one, and nodded politely with a tip of his fedora. “The name’s Nick, Nick Valentine. Nice to meet the both of you. Need a hand at all?” He eyed the likely heavy box balanced in her arms, and started forward as if to help her lift it.

She shook her head and shifted them closer to her, taking what was likely an unconscious step back. “Nah, I’m fine. This is the last of it. Thanks, though.”

“Not a problem,” he replied politely, his smile warm through his synthetic face. He noticed how she didn’t look at him with any apparent disgust, and while she had observed him strangely for a moment upon first approaching her, she did not sneer or recoil from his synthetic build. A flush of warm appreciation spread through the synth for the strange new woman.

He snapped himself back to attention as her voice called to him through his thoughts. “Would you like to come in for anything to drink?” she asked, starting towards the open doorway, and out of the blistering heat. “I have plenty of Nuka-cola.”

The invitation took the detective aback for a moment, and he was reminded of a culture of old, of dainty women inviting strangers in for a drink to escape the heat, of bright dresses and pressed smiles. They were memories of another time, memories that did not belong to his own mind. Nick blinked, somewhat startled by this woman, and hesitated in thought. Nick was always up for meeting new people and learning their stories; he pictured himself staying and talking with this strange new woman, putting the pieces of the puzzle that was her together until the picture they formed would be clear. Thoughts of the case brought him back, though, and he hesitated regretfully. “Wish I could, but I should probably get back to work.”

“That’s too bad,” she called from the darkened interior of the new and dusty home. Her voice fell, practiced in their tone. Nick, enchanted by it, listened and watched as she came to the doorway. “Maybe another time, then,” she suggested, “when you’re probably not so busy.” Her eyes glinted behind dusty eyeglasses.

Nick blinked, and nodded mutely before finding his voice again. “And I wouldn’t want to barge in, especially just when you’re settling in.”

“It’s no trouble,” she smiled in a way the synth could only describe as warm, strange, and oddly foreign. “But thank you, maybe you can stop by tomorrow. I’ll be settled in by then.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Nick replied, smiling in return. He tipped his hat her way, nodded to the dog sitting at her side, and turned to walk back towards his office.

(**)

“How did it go?” Ellie asked as Nick stepped into the room. She turned towards him in her office chair. “Did you find any good clues?”

Nick closed the door behind him as he entered the office. He stepped carefully past the desk, chairs, and stuffed file cabinets to make his way to his own chair. “I did, indeed. I found Latimer Junior’s grave, actually.”

Ellie frowned. “Grave? Someone buried him?”

Nick nodded, reaching into his desk for a carton of cigarettes. He fished around for a moment before pulling out a pack, unopened. “Yeah, but it wasn’t the family. They didn’t know where his body was in the first place.” He dug in his pockets for a cigarette lighter, then flipped the switch until the bright and hot flame flickered on. Opening the box, he pulled out a thin stick and brought it to the flame until it caught. “Lots of clues that built up to an even bigger mess of questions.” Nick took a deep inhale from the cigarette, his sensors humming from the hot warmth of the toxic smoke. He stuffed the box and lighter back into the pockets of his trench coat. “Who buried the poor Nelson Latimer, but left the rest of the bodies to rot in the open? Maybe a friend? Another family member? Why didn’t they approach the family and tell them about the body if they were close enough to him to give the boy a funeral?”

Ellie did not answer any of his questions, and only frowned as he spoke, her own mind likely buzzing with thought and idea. “Do you have any idea?”

“Not a clue,” Nick sighed. “I don’t have a single lead on whoever did this, but one thing is for sure,” he breathed out, exhaling the smoke into a thin, continuous stream as he pursed his lips. “I’m going to find out.”


	3. A Nostalgic Waltz

Nick stayed up for most of the night pondering the possible outcomes and paths he could explore as he continued his case, but for the most part, his mind drew a horrible blank. The myth of the Angels was a relatively new urban legend in the Commonwealth these days; perhaps only being around for the past several months. It all started when citizens across the ‘Wealth started reporting accounts of loved ones dying mysteriously in the night by some unknown cause, usually with a slit throat.

At first, Nick thought little of it. Death was a common occurrence in the Commonwealth, and yeah, there were perhaps more deaths springing up these days, but it didn’t help that the people were a bit jittery from the recent fall of the Institute. Even though months had passed since that explosion rocked their whole world, citizens were still nervous about Synth Issues. Just because the Institute was gone, Boogeyman destroyed, did not mean there were still synths out there, pretending to be human.

Needless to say, people were still on edge, so when Nick caught wind of people dying in their sleep from an unknown perpetrator, he thought nothing of it, and chalked it up to Gunners or Raiders.

However, that all changed when the signature appeared.

There were more reports of citizen deaths across the Commonwealth, but this time, all the bodies were found with a feather attached somewhere on the corpse, but always positioned somewhere easily accessible, so whoever came in contact with the body would know _exactly_ who was responsible. They were never the same color. Sometimes black, sometimes spotted and gray- then very rarely- a white feather.

Suddenly, the killer had a signature to go with the killings, and Nick paid attention. The Pre-War part of Nick’s hard drive recognized older tradition of serial killers having a signature for their kills, and the Synth Detective knew at once that this was not the act of a single omnipotent being. The rest of the Commonwealth did not seem to share his sense and logic of the situation. Reports of a murder by this killer would come from the North one day, then far to the South in the span of a single night. People took to believing it was a supernatural being, seeking to bring to justice to those who have done wrong. This belief irritated Nick to no end, and he often ranted to Ellie as this rumor and misinformation spread.

“It’s obviously a group of more than more people, _at least,_ _k_ illing multiple targets at the same relative time like they have! How can they not see that?” he raged as his loyal secretary listened on silently and respectfully. “I suppose there’s no lacking for commonwealth stupidity, even today,” he would growl, then retreat to his bed for the rest of the day to think things through.

Eventually, as the report of killings continued to climb, a name for this person -“ _People,”_ Nick would correct in irritation. The group of _people-_ commanding these executions. The being moved in the night silently without any trace by morning, killing those with no connection or apparent reason. The murder(s) would then leave a single feather on the body of the victim, their calling card. The Commonwealth gave them the name _Angels of Death_ (shortened to ‘Angels’) _._ Some people believed Nick’s theory, but there was still a significant amount of people that refused to believe it was more than one person. Regardless of what the people believed, the overall public named the leader of the movement as _The Archangel._ Every so often, a report would come in that someone had an eyewitness account of the Archangel, but anytime Nick investigated the claim, he proved it to be false or found no evidence that would lead him to whoever the leader was of this powerful organization.

_Yes, an organization_ , Nick thought to himself as he tapped his fingers against the mattress he lay on, but did not allow himself to sleep. There were far too many reports of murders for this to be just one person doing it all, and besides this, all of the reported deaths as enacted by the Angels were performed and executed differently. No one murder was the same. Sometimes the person would die from a knife wound, a bullet wound(s), too much radiation, or even a chem overdose. There were no hints as to what the killer(s) preferred in terms of style, but it was apparent to Nick that the Archangel valued stealth in an extreme way. Not one report across the Commonwealth came in with reliable claims of sightings either before or after the murder. The only evidence of an intruder was the feather left on the body of the victim.

Nick groaned and pressed his hands to his forehead in annoyance and exaggeration. _It’s impossible, though_ , he growled to himself. There was no way to locate the Angels; no one could. What could he do? Who could he interrogate that would reveal what they knew about this Shadowy Crime Organization?

He closed his eyes, his brows knit into a concentrated frown as he dug through the possibilities. It didn’t take too long for him to come to several conclusions. Well, rather, he came to two conclusions on what he could do to start his investigation. For a start, he could always try his luck on the road, searching for people who reported murder from the Angels, but that one was more risky. While there was a chance he might stumble on some useful information, it would also take much longer to get enough pieces to make even a fraction of the puzzle he was trying to assemble. So he could either get small pieces of information over a longer period of time, or he could get a handful of them with one short walk to a sister city.

It was an easy choice.

Nick stood up in one smooth movement. Ellie looked at him over her shoulder as the detective grabbed some essentials as he readied himself for the journey. Bullets, oil, spare parts, an extra gun, and his hat. “Going somewhere?” the woman asked nosily.

“Some investigating for the Latimer case. Nothing too dangerous, I should be back by tomorrow morning,” he said in a blur, taking stock of all he had before setting out.

“What about the newcomer in town?”

Nick didn’t need to look up to know his secretary had somehow managed to find out about his meet-and-greet with the new stranger in town, Nora. He fiddled distractedly with his belt as he adjusted it. “Yeah? What about her?” he asked gruffly, having an idea on what Ellie was up to.

“Well, you were going to meet her today, weren’t you?” she pried.

The detective sighed, and looked at his secretary with an expression conveying warm exasperation. “Malcolm Latimer needs justice for the death of his son. I don’t have time to sit around with people for tea. Besides, the more time passes, the more this case will grow colder, and I refuse to let it slip out from under me, especially if it does connect to the Angels.” It was a logical excuse in his mind, and he amended his friend as she made a disappointed face. “Don’t worry, I’ll apologize to Ms. Nora on my way out of town.”

Ellie pursed her lips, and her brows pinched with dissatisfaction. “I worry about you, Nick,” she said softly. She looked up to him pleadingly. “I know you’re a grown man, and your job is important to you. . . but you should have other people to care for you.”

Nick cracked a half-smile and didn’t bother to correct Ellie when she referred to him as a ‘grown man.’ Instead, he sighed quietly and nodded, “Yes, I know, Ellie. And besides, I have you.”

His answer did not please her, and she continued to frown. “Well, you should have more than just me. I want you to find more people you can connect with, someone you can be friends with.” Ellie cracked her own small smile. “I’m not saying you need to force something that may not be here, but maybe try reaching out to the newcomer? Who knows, you might have something in common and become good friends.” She looked at him with an expression almost akin to gentle pleading. “Just try, for me.”

Agh, hitting him with that guilt card. Nick huffed out a quiet breath. “Fine, Ellie. But only because you asked.”

She grinned broadly now. “Good enough for me,” she said, and started to swivel in her chair back to her desk. Nick scrunched up one side of his face thoughtfully and took two steps towards Ellie. Bowing down, he kissed her chastely on the crown of her head. She stilled.

“Thank you for worrying about me, Ellie. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Anytime, Nick,” she murmured, glancing back at him with tears in her eyes. “Safe journey, and I hope you and Ms. Nora have a pleasant afternoon.”

Nick rolled his eyes a bit, but the action was loving, and he smirked her way as he started out the door. “Thanks, Ellie.”

(**)

Nick walked down Third Base Avenue and turned towards the bustling center of Diamond City. He walked with a bit of a blush in his body language, his shoulders hunched and his head duck down. He was nervous to see the stranger again, but still excited to be meeting someone new. It was always interesting to listen to the diverse stories of new residents of the Great Green Jewel. There were so many backgrounds, so much to learn from another person’s perspective on life. It enthralled Nick to no end, and he used this anticipation to fuel his excitement as he walked alongside the back of Takahashi’s Noodles.

The Synth lifted glowing yellow eyes to the Home Plate home, and he paused a few steps away, watching.

The newcomer, Nora, had her arms wrapped around a Diamond City Guard in a big bear hug. Nick couldn’t place name to the guard this woman was embraced with, but they were clearly close to some degree. The guard was bald and lacked a helmet, unlike the other guards, but he was at ease in his Dug Out armor and standard pistol attached to his hip. Large patrolman sunglasses blocked the detective from seeing his eyes.

The two parted from their embrace, and because of their distance, Nick could not hear what they were saying. A moment later, Nora caught sight of Nick standing several paces away, and waved him over with a grin stretched across her face. He had no choice but to approach the pair with a polite smile of his own. Nora beamed at Nick, “Hello there, Detective! Glad you could come.”

Nick found his courage as he looked at this stunningly beautiful woman of the wastes. Perhaps it was her beauty that intimidated him next to his falling-apart body. Regardless, she radiated warmth and friendliness, and because of that, it was easy for the detective to fall into the easy glow of her personal bubble. “Afternoon, Ms. Nora. And thank you for inviting me over. Not everyday a guy like me gets invited to a proper lady’s home.”

She smiled, charmed by his words, “Well it’s a pleasure to have you,” she returned. It was again so easy for Nick to fall under the rise and lilt of her voice, striking a cord of nostalgia deep into his hard-drive. There was something ethereal about this woman, like she was more than she could ever let on. Nora turned to the Diamond City Guard at her side, “Oh, and I should introduce you to my brother, Luke. I’m not sure if you two know each other or not.”

“I’m Luke, nice to meet ya,” Nora’s brother interjected before Valentine could squeeze a single word in. He thrust a hand towards Nick, who shook Luke’s hand automatically. “And c’mon sis,” Luke griped, “how could I not know about the famous Synth Detective of Diamond City? Jeez.”

Nora scoffed, and Nick slid in, “Always nice to make new friends; good to meet you, too, Luke.” The Detective looked perceptively at the slighter build in the guard, and especially focused on the large patrolman sunglasses that shielded the man’s face. “I’m not sure I recognize you. Have you been working in the City for long?” the Synth questioned.

Luke shook his head, “Nah, been working in the farms, but I got moved to Security after some training. Pays better, too. And speaking of work, I should get going. I’m still on shift.” Luke smiled in a way that was more charming than Nick thought appropriate, almost as if the man knew a secret that no one else knew. The Detective watched as Luke turned to his sister, suddenly serious as his voice dropped slightly in volume. “You’ll be okay?” he asked, a hint of worry nudging his voice towards her.

Nora rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, D-don’t worry about me, alright, Luke?” she coughed, making eye contact with her brother. “You know where to find me if anything comes up. See you tonight for dinner?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he agreed, and leaned down to kiss her quickly on the cheek. “Love you, see you tonight.”

“Love you, too,” she replied warmly, “see you tonight!”

Luke was already starting away from Nick and Nora as he called out, “Nice meeting you, Mister Valentine!”

“You as well,” Nick replied, lifted a single hand in farewell, then turned back to Nora.

The woman clapped her hands together with a broad and pleased smile on her face. “Well, how about some Nuka-Cola?”

Nick smiled. “Sounds great,” and with a beckoning gesture from Nora, the synth followed the stranger inside Home Plate.

(**)

“So, have you had a chance to look around the city, yet?” Nick asked as the door to Home Plate closed behind him.

Nora shrugged half-heartedly as she flipped the switch on the wall. Light immediately flooded the home, bits of dust floating through the air. “Not really, yet. Still getting adjusted to the new place.”

Nick looked around the newly-occupied home and whistled lowly in appreciation. “Looks like you’ve got an eye for it.” The front door opened to a couch and sofa perpendicular to each other with a low coffee table between them, centered over a patterned rug of faded purple and blue. Pictures of different scenery hung up on the wall, some of forests, a mountain, and even a tropical beach, images long forgotten by the passage of time. Along the furthest wall was Nora’s workbench, along with an icebox to keep drinks cool, a few trunks for supplies, and a doghouse and dish for her dog. The mutt lifted his head upon the duo entering, then faithfully lowered it, content as he closed his eyes to go back to sleep.

Nick followed Nora as she walked towards the ice box, and as he peered around the corner to view the rest of the home, he paused in surprise to see a large and heavy curtain draped over the entirety of the hall into the next room. The detective looked it up and down with a hint of suspicion, and asked Nora as casually as a synth detective could, “Planning on putting on a play?” he asked, wondering if she got such a thick curtain from an abandoned theater.

She looked up casually as she stood from the ice box, holding two ice cold Nuka cola’s in her hands. “Oh, that’s just my office. I like to keep work and home as divided as I can.”

“Oh, a businesswoman,” Nick allowed, reaching a hand towards Nora for the drink. She hesitated a moment before giving it to him, and he looked up at her with a question reflecting in both of their eyes. Something like shame pierced quickly through Nick, and he brought his hand back towards his chest, unable to deny the dull throb of hurt her actions had on him. Of course a beautiful woman like her wouldn’t want to touch an old synth like him. He was too strange, too weird and creepy and-

“Wait,” she interrupted his thoughts, and shifted a little awkwardly, smiling shyly. “Can you drink? I mean – is it safe for you to? I don’t want to, accidentally, short-circuit you or something.”

Relief soared through Nick, and he graced her with a chuckle and a smile, “Yes, I can drink beverages. Thank you.”

At his smile, she returned it, and handed him his soda. “Sorry, um, thanks, I mean.” They both went to sit in the living area, he on the couch and her on the single-person sofa. He could see a rickety stairwell going further up, leading to where he could see a bed and a half-filled bookshelf. The detective opened the bottle with his better hand and took a large gulp, the flavor sending off his sensors that coated his tongue, telling him that it was sweet.

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured as easily as he could in light of Nora trying to be polite. “People have assumed worse.” Honestly, it was remarkably refreshing to be spending time with someone who didn’t seem bothered by his synth-ness; he’d have to ask about that. People weren’t normally so friendly to him.

She half-smiled, and took a sip of her own drink. Curious, Nick was the first to start prying. “So, what brings you to the Great Green Jewel, Nora?”

The Synth watched curiously as something settled over her face, and a half-smile curled her soft lips. “Well, I’ve lived mostly out in the Commonwealth with my family, and it was just time to do something new.” She sipped from her soda, conveniently avoiding Nick’s piercing stare.

Valentine read between the lines easily enough, and he slipped out his next question like the thought had just occurred to him. “Oh? What about your family?”

She sighed lightly and lifted her eyes back to him, something heavy and dark behind her gaze. “I lost my husband and son. They were killed by raiders. After they died there was no point in staying on the farm, so I left for Diamond City. Luke has lived here for a while; I knew he would help me out.” She ducked her head as she frowned and pursed her lips, looking like she was close to fighting back tears.

Nick tilted his head in a respectful bow. “I’m sorry,” he allowed sincerely.

Nora nodded toward him. “Thank you. It’s been a long road, but I’m ready to move forward into my new life here.”

Nick offered his own half-smile. “I understand.” He leaned back a little into the scratchy couch and gestured to the heavy maroon curtain around the corner. “So what’s your business these days? I doubt it’s farming, considering this environment.”

She smiled politely in a way that reminded Nick of the pre-war politicians, sneaky ones trying to hide something. He immediately shook his head from that thought, feeling slightly guilty that he would think of Nora like that after just meeting her. He took a sip of Nuka Cola.

Nora’s polite smile was still in place as she shrugged her shoulders a little bit. “I run a security business. Caravans, security detail at settlements, private guards for hire and the like. I have some people working under me who arrange the comings-and-goings for my workers, as well as training for new recruits. And of course, if someone has any kind of complaint, be it a customer or an employee, they can come to me and report any kind of issue, and I work with it as well as I can.” She took a sip of her drink. “Or we strike some kind of deal. Can’t always fix everything.”

“Hm, and how does that work for you?” Nick asked, toning his voice carefully so he would not come across as condescending.

Nora took no apparent offense to his question, because she shrugged lightly again and smiled a little more easily. “Not too bad, actually. Diamond City is a great place to set up as a primary office, too. Lots of people means lots of potential business, or word of where there could _be_ good business.”

Nick couldn’t help but think of the Upper-Stand folks and the Lower-Stand ones who always looked down on as inferior while the Upper-Stands feasted on their salisbury steaks and expensive bourbon. The detective eyed Nora with a light of mischief in his tone of voice, “I don’t know what you’re talking about; people around here always get along _great_. No security detail needed here at _all_.”

He was relieved that she didn’t miss the sarcastic note in his tone, and she laughed lightly, grinning as she countered, “Well, guess I better start job-hunting elsewhere.”

It was then that Nick took note of the Pip-boy strapped to her left forearm. Dusty with faded colors, it appeared like a clumsy and clunky thing to carry around, but the strange new woman seemed to keep it well enough with a grace that told Nick she had worn it for some time. “Where you get that Pip-boy?” he asked in a cordial manner. Tech like that was rare in the Commonwealth, and if someone wasn’t from a Vault, it was picked off of a dead Vault-Dweller. Whether the keeper of it killed for it or not was open to interpretation, depending on the holder. Nick hoped this new woman wouldn’t kill someone for material possessions, even for a Pip-Boy.

Nora looked at briefly, then shrugged. “Got it off a dead Vault-Dweller I stumbled across.”

Nick couldn’t help but pry a little. “Hm. Known a few Vault-Dwellers that wander the Commonwealth. Any number in particular on their suit?”

“Vault 111,” she said without hesitation, and her eyes lifted to stare at him, a questioning challenge in her gaze. Nick recognized that she answered fast enough to let him know she wasn’t lying, and her voice rang with confidence. She was being truthful. But still, weird she would remember something like that.

He glanced away politely. “Strange. Haven’t heard of a Vault by that number before.”

Nora leaned down casually to scratch at her ankle. “Figured it was just some unlucky Vaultie not used to wandering on his own. I figured if he was dead, there was something that had to have killed him. I didn’t stick around.”

Nick chuckled, and let it be.

The woman peered up with a glint in her bright green eyes. “So tell me more about your agency, Detective Valentine.”

The two carried on for the next hour in a similar fashion. Nora turned the tables on Nick and gave him the verbal pat-down, learning who he was, what he was about, how long he had been in business. He told her easily enough what it was like as a detective (“The detective’s life is never boring”), and about his kind and observant secretary back at the office (“Real sweetheart, that Ellie,”). It seemed to be a balanced conversation as an equal amount of information was presented and exchanged on both sides. Nora was interested, particularly on Nick’s history as to how an Institute synth as old as he was managed to survive the ‘Wealth as he did.

“I miss that,” she sighed. “Work on the farm was hard, but every once in a while someone might hire us out to chase off some supermutants or raiders or something. I kind of miss that excitement.”

An ever-intrigued Nick tucked aside that information for later.

Nick found Nora to be an easy person to talk to. While she started out a tad awkwardly when it came to conversation, soon they were conversing as two close friends would. The detective found their discussion especially engaging. Every sentence and piece of information exchanged felt like an elaborate and careful dance in the form of words. One would back off as the other pressed forward, and so on and so forth. When she got going, Nora’s face became a mask of airy politeness and passive sensitivity; it left Nick not knowing where she stood on several items, but it also left him intrigued and curious. Many years had passed since he last talked to someone as challenging as she. He would ask her some another prying question, and she would dance around it in careful steps leaving a trail of truth scattered with misdirection.

The Synth Detective could not be happier.

By the time Nick managed to look at his watch, nearly 2 hours had passed; he looked apologetically at Nora and adjusted his fedora on his head.

At his gesture, Nora stood to her feet in time with him. “Well, it was swell to meet you, Mr. Valentine.”   
  


“Likewise,” he said, and offered his skeletal hand out of habit for her to shake. Nora shook his hand as normally as she would anyone else, and he grinned, “And please, just Nick is fine.”

Nora beamed at him. “All right, Nick. I guess I’ll see you around?”

“I’m sure you will,” he allowed, and tipped his hat her way. “Thank you for the drink. See you on the streets.”

Nick didn’t miss her smile after him as he walked out the door, “See you on the streets,” she returned.

As Nick turned and walked towards Takahashi’s Noodle Stand, he just missed the exchange as one of the Diamond City guards stepped close to the dark-haired woman, pulled her aside, and whispered a request quietly in her ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand so it begins; poor Nicky
> 
> lmk if you have any questions as we progress! Don't want any of you to get lost- a bit slow at the start but we'll pick it up, soon


	4. Sir Mayor

Nick just passed Publick Occurrences when he heard a familiar voice call his name.

“Nick! Hey, Nick!”

The detective halted his steps as his head turned towards the voice. “Ah, well if it isn’t Diamond City’s very own reporter Piper Wright.” The woman jogged towards him, smiling in a way that amplified the mischievous glimmer in her eyes. Nick looked her up and down carefully. “Anything I can do for ya?”

Piper grinned at his question as she stopped a pace from him, “Well, now that you mention it, I was wondering what the latest scoop was on the city, if there was anything news worthy.”

_Ah, snooping_. “And you’re asking me because. . .?” he led with a wryly.

The reporter answered back as easily as she could as Nick watched her with a raised eyebrow. Talking fast was a bit of a requirement for a reporter, and Piper was no exception. She rolled her eyes as she prompted the synth, “C’mon Nick,” she eased, “we both know you only ever leave Diamond City when you’re on a case.” She leaned forward, her eyes reminding Valentine of a starving dogs salivating over some Salisbury steak. “So tell me, is it anything juicy? You can tell me, honest.”

Nick chuckled at her, and stuck his hands in the pockets of his trench coat. “I can’t talk about my cases Piper, you know that. You’re gonna have to look for a story somewhere else.”

This didn’t deter her; in fact, it looked like she almost expected it as she slid a pen into a front pocket on her coat. “Eh, no matter. Do you mind if I at least go with you? Maybe we’re heading in the same direction.”

Nick saw right through her, sticking that reporter’s nose where it didn’t belong. Amused, Nick asked, “You’re heading out to the Financial District?”

He saw her hesitate for just a tick before she straightened herself and caught her words as the fast-talking began, “Yeah, the good ol’ Financial District! I’ve been keeping an eye on a story that might unravel there, and I mean, I’d tell you what it is, but a reporter can never reveal her secrets, am I right? Anyway, mind if I tag along? It’ll be just like old times.”

Nick shrugged, “Yeah, you can tag along, but I seem to remember a lot of those old times having a lot of bullets in them,” he thought out loud. Without saying more, he started walking up the ramp to the entrance of Diamond City. Piper hurried to catch up so they could walk side-by-side.

The reporter snorted and waved a hand at him, “Pfft! So what if there’s bullets? Everyone needs a little excitement now and then. But don’t worry, if you want to take it a little slower, we can take the easy way to, what, the Old Skybridge? Going to investigate the rumors of a Death Claw living on the rooftop of an apartment building? Trust me, Nicky, I’ve investigated that one and I couldn’t find _anything_.”

The detective laughed under his breath, “Try Goodneighbor.”

Piper paused briefly and her footsteps staggered before she hurried to go to Nick’s side. He could tell the answer had thrown her off in a moment of surprise and maybe a flicker of fear. “Goodneighbor?” she asked, incredulous. “Why are we going there?”

“Well, _I’m_ going there for my case, and I thought you said you had a story brewing up that way?” Nick asked, smirking smugly.

She stammered to catch up as she plastered on a fake grin, “I-I did! I do! Yup, Goodneighbor! Lots of excitement there, just what a reporter like me needs!”

Nick kept up the smirk, and he didn’t miss the exasperated expression that fell over Piper’s face as they passed through the entrance of Diamond City

~~**~~

The Synth Detective eased the door to Goodneighbor open with a careful hand, keeping an eye out for any trouble as he and the Diamond City Reporter squeezed through. The door closed behind them, and while a few of the local residents looked their way, no one approached the pair as they made their way to the Old State House.

Before Nick went through the door, he turned to Piper. “Maybe you want to go to the Third Rail and get a drink until I’m done. It shouldn’t be long.”

“You’re ditching me already?” the reporter teased to hide some of the fear beneath her voice. “It’s gonna take more than a drink to get me away from all this excitement, Mr. Valentine. Please,” she allowed, gesturing him ahead, “lead the way.”

Nick allowed his face to form into a careful glower, “Piper, I’m serious. This is personal business for my client, and I’m not at liberty to reveal anything that might-”

“Nick,” she interrupted, and the detective paused at the slight tremor in her voice. It sounded a lot like fear. “It’s all off-the-record, okay? I don’t even have to go into the room with you, I just don’t want to wander too far away.” She fidgeted and Nick saw her slender fingers tap in rapid succession against her upper thigh. The reporter was nervous.

Nick could have taken this moment to tease her a bit - _What? Diamond City’s reporter scared of a few ghouls with guns?-_ but Nick’s manners kept him in check as he pulled the brim of his hat down just a tad. “Sure,” he agreed. “Just hang outside the door and wait for me. I shouldn’t be too long.”

He watched as her shoulders deflated in slight relief. “Thanks, Nick,” she breathed.

He turned the doorknob and opened the door to the Old State House. “Sure, what are friends for.”

The Diamond City denizens made their way into the building, casting cursory glances to the Neighborhood Watch, who eyed the Synth Detective and Diamond City reporter as they passed. Nick climbed the stairs, already hearing the scarred ghoulish voice of-

“Hancock,” Nick greeted as he stood at the entrance of the Mayor’s room. His hands were tucked into his pockets, and there was a friendly smirk lining his synth-worn face.

“Valentine!” the Mayor greeted, grinning as he threw himself from the couch, his arms flung open wide. “How long has it _been_? Last I heard, you got tangled up with Skinny Malone’s gang. Was almost gonna send someone out to get ‘cha.” As Nick walked into the room, Hancock reached out so the old friends clasped hands firmly with each other in a familiar handshake. “Figured you would be on my tail sooner or later after the big event, didn’t think it would take so long, really.”

Nick raised a brow and withdrew his hand back into his pocket. “The big event?” he echoed.

Confusion shadowed the Mayor’s expression. “Now don’t tell me the Great Synth Detective didn’t hear about the fall of the Institute? The explosion shook the whole Commonwealth; how could anyone miss _that_?”

Clarity fell over Nick’s mind. “ _Oh_ , the Institute. I’m not actually here about that.”

“Oh,” Hancock’s voice fell flat, and he looked dumbfounded for just a moment before that easy-going mask lifted over his face. “Then what gives me the pleasure of your visit, Nicky?”

Nick’s suspicion grew, and his gaze narrowed thoughtfully.

“Here on a case,” he replied. “Got some questions for you, in case you know anything.”

Hancock gestured to the couches in the room with a casual turn of his hand, “C’mon in, then. Sit down. Want a drink?” The Mayor turned and made his way towards the back counter.

Nick followed his old friend into the room and sat on the couch opposite Hancock’s right-hand man, Fahrenheit. The woman looked at Nick nonchalantly and said nothing upon Nick’s interaction with her mayor, and she continued to say nothing as he sat across from her. Nick shook himself alert as he answered Hancock, “I’ll pass on the drink, maybe another time.”

“Suit yourself,” Hancock shrugged. The ghoul reached or something on the counter; Nick thought it might be a drink, but was unsurprised when the Mayor held up a red tube of Jet. He leaned against the counter, and took a deep inhale as he brought the chem up to his lips.

Nick raised a brow towards the Mayor and asked with a conspiratorial smirk. “Speaking of the Institute, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about it’s downfall, would you?”

“Don’t know a thing,” Hancock answered a bit too quickly after he breathed out his dose of Jet. “Wish I knew who finally pushed the button so I could thank them.”

Nick didn’t believe a word of it, but that wasn’t what he was here for, so he let it be.

“What’s this about then?” Hancock asked when a few beats of silence passed by.

Nick figured he might as well cut to the quick. He glanced furtively at Fahrenheit, but he spoke candidly. “Do you know anything about the Angels?”

A palpable tension settled over the people gathered in the room. Hancock broke it when he chuckled, and took another shot of Jet. “Heh. didn’t take you as one who would chase things that didn’t exist, Nick.”

Nick held a neutral expression. “We can debate on if they exist or not another day. Regardless, there’s a murderer on the loose, and I’m chasing after him. I have suspicions that whoever killed the victim may be part of a gang, maybe the Angels, maybe not. I just wanted to know if you knew anything about them from your ears around the Commonwealth.”

Hancock looked considerate for a few beats, then spoke roughly towards the person sitting on the couch across from Nick. “Fahrenheit,” he growled. “Wait for me outside. I’ll call you in when we’re done here.”

Fahrenheit cast a perfunctory glance towards Nick, her eyebrows raised. Nick had the sudden feeling of being _judged_ , but he let it pass over him as the stoic woman stood without a word, and made her way to the double doors.

Only when Fahrenheit was gone did Hancock release a breath and walk towards Nick. He tossed the Jet back to the counter and let himself fall heavily onto the couch. The Mayor sat himself up and inched forward so he sat on the very edge of the seat. Nick mirrored his position, attentive to the sudden change of mood. His hands steepled together in his lap. “Listen, Nick,” Hancock started, “We go way back; you’re a good man, and a good friend, so I’m gonna give it to you straight.” Hancock met Nick’s gaze heavily, and the Mayor’s voice dropped. “What you’re doing, what you’re chasing after,” he shook his head, “it’s not there. You need to leave it at that, trust me.”

Stubborn determination filled Nick at once, and he pressed his lips together so they formed a thin line. “Someone has been _murdered,_ Hancock,” the detective reminded darkly. “Someone’s _son_ that is _missed_ and _loved_. I’m going to find who did this, whether the Angels are real or not, ya hear me?”

Hancock grunted and leaned back into the couch, smirking, “Cheesy as ever, jeez.” When Nick didn’t say anything more, the Mayor groaned and threw his arms over the back of the couch. “Listen, man, even if the Angels did exist, this doesn’t sound like their kind of style, ya feel me?”

Nick frowned. “How so?”

Hancock’s head tilted back so it rested against the frame of the couch. “Man, Nick, didn’t think _I_ was going to be the one doing the detective work today.”

Out of fear that Hancock would shut down and not reveal anything, Nick kept his trap shut while he pressed his lips together to keep himself quiet. Hancock looked his way smugly and lifted his head so it no longer rested on the couch frame. “Brother, you ever wonder why they’re called the _Angels_?”

Nick did not answer. Hancock took this as encouragement to continue, so he went on, “It’s because whenever someone blames a murder on them, it was a mercy kill.”

The idea of a ‘mercy kill’ was an oxymoron in Nick’s mind, and it must have shown on his face, because Hancock tossed his head back in deep-throated laughter. “Hah! I’m serious. The people who were supposedly killed by these Angels,” Hancock paused, “total assholes.”

“Being an ‘asshole’ isn’t motive for killing someone, John, regardless of your own philosophy, of course,” Nick returned. The Mayor’s ruthless nature was legendary across the Commonwealth; he gave travelers a reason to fear the place called Goodneighbor, home of the Ghoul Mayor John Hancock.

Hancock chuckled, not denying Nick’s jab. “True, but I’m not talking big-mouth, thinks-highly-of-himself ego asshole.” Hancock’s voice dropped, “I’m talking your abusive, rapist, leave-you-in the trash asshole. People who _deserved_ to die. So believe me, if someone has come to you crying wolf that the Angels killed their loved one, they’re either lying, or they didn’t know their loved one as well as they thought they did.” Hancock leaned back into the couch and lifted one leg to cross it over his knee so his ankle rested on his leg.

Nick’s eyes widened. This was certainly new information. Then he regarded his friend with newfound suspicion. “And how did you come to know all this Hancock? Didn’t think your informants would learn this much about a group that doesn’t exist.”

Something in Hancock’s eyes hardened. His voice sounded . . . protective. “Done some traveling, recently.” He tried to add a casual tone into his voice, but Nick had already taken note of his guarded tone. “Rumors and all that. You know how it is.”

“Yeah,” Nick said, his tone flat. “Travel anywhere in particular?”

“Not really. Just around. Getting a feel for the people of the ‘Wealth. You feel me?”

“Hm,” Nick hummed noncommittally. “Did you travel with anyone during this tour?”

“Just a gun-for-hire from town,” Hancock answered breezily. “She might be around if you want to talk to her, but she might already be on her next job; she’s pretty popular.”

Something in Hancock’s demeanor didn’t sit right with the Detective, and he pried further, watching for more revealing tells from the deceptively comfortable mayor. “Sure, I think I will. What’s her name?”

Hancock’s eyebrows knit together in an expression that might be close to disapproval. “Samantha,” he ground out. “Her name is Samantha.”

Feeling his time was running up, Nick started to heave himself to his feet, a ‘thank you’ about to leave his mouth as the double doors behind the two burst open, and a harried ghoul stumbled in, wide-eyed and panting. “Mayor!” he croaked from his weary voice, scratchy from what appeared to be an exhausting run. “News! From Diamond City!”

Nick only had time for his eyes to widen in surprise. He startled from a loud slam and turned to see Hancock had slammed his open palms on the table as he stood to his menacing height of 6 feet. “What did I tell you about this, Johnson?! Do _not_ enter my room when I have a guest. This is the _third time_ -”

“But sir!” the man interrupted, his voice shaking with apparent fear. “I-It’s your brother!”

Hancock scoffed and rolled his eyes. “What, did he ban children from entering the city, now? I told you, he has nothing to do with me anymore; I don’t want to hear you refer to him as-”

“He’s dead.”

Hancock’s words cut off as his voice died. From behind the messenger, Nick saw Piper standing in the doorway, her mouth gaping in shock as a single statement stuttered from her lips.

“Guess I have my story.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Piper AND Hancock all in one chapter! <3 thank you for reading! dont forget to comment with your thoughts!


	5. Hey, Sunshine

Nick accompanied a dark and glowering Hancock back to Diamond City as Piper followed closely, walking as close to Nick as possible. The trio said hardly a word on their way through the ruins of Boston, and they made it in record time as the green wall suddenly loomed high above them. They passed a security guard as they walked under the archway into the city.

“Hey! No ghouls allowed in- Oh,” he fumbled for words, “s-sorry Mister Mayor!” Nick cast a glance over his shoulder to see the guard walk faster in the opposite direction.

“The city’s brightest and bravest,” Piper rolled her eyes.

Once past the gates, Nick grabbed the attention of another guard, asking where the murder scene was. It took a moment for the man to adjust to the sight of a reporter, a mayor, and a detective all together (sounded like the beginning of a bad joke), and directed them to the Mayor’s office with some encouragement from Nick (“I’m a _detective_ , Jones. What do you _think_ I want to see the murder scene for?”)

The body was in McDonough’s office next to his terminal. The former Mayor was sprawled in a position on his back that made Nick’s rusty joints ache, his arms and legs bent awkwardly, his eyes open and staring at nothing as his mouth opened forever in an expression of surprise and fear.

Piper pressed close behind Nick as the Detective went into full investigation mode. Out of habit, he reached into his pocket for a cigarette and his lighter. He lit the end with deft and experienced fingers, the cigarette familiar in his right hand as he cast a cursory glance to the rest of the room.

The secretary, Geneva, stood sobbing into the arms of a security guard who awkwardly pat her shoulder in whatever comfort he could provide. No point in asking her anything right now, not in the state she was in.

The rest of the room was filled with senior guards who paced the area, and another, smaller group, that blocked the way towards the former Mayor’s body. Nick turned his attention towards Hancock. The man stood a couple of steps from the body, his mouth turned in a frown as he stared with something close to . . disappointment? Perhaps regret? Nick couldn’t place his finger on it, but he offered no words of comfort as he looked thoughtfully at the corpse. His eyes scanned it with practiced thought as the gears turned in his head. While he stared, every wire and gear in the detective went cold as he saw a single white feather tucked in the front pocket of McDonough’s jacket.

Nick frowned, and he grunted under his breath.

_Blast it_.

He brought the cigarette up to his lips for another deep inhale of nicotine. So the murderer was either with the Angels, or encouraging the myth of them. Unfortunately, Nick found that he couldn’t decide which was which. What he _did_ know was that word of this would spread fast, no matter how much the guards swore to secrecy. It wouldn’t take long before the Commonwealth was buzzing about the Mayor of Diamond City being killed by the admired and feared Angels.

“It’s the Archangel,” Piper breathed behind him.

Nick looked to the reporter standing next to the solemn Hancock. Both men lifted their eyebrows at her. “The Archangel?” Nick dared to ask.

Piper shifted uncomfortably, and she bit her lip. “The leader of the Angels,” she explained. “Anytime there’s a white feather, it’s supposed to be from the Archangel for something super serious.” She frowned, “But for what?”

Nick didn’t like the feeling this case was giving him. For every answer offered, he seemed to pull up twice as many questions. He didn’t comment on what Piper said, and instead bowed his head as he crouched above the body. “The Archangel, huh?” he drawled.

“Luke!”

Nick looked up curiously to see Nora of all people as she hurried into the office from the creaking outside elevator. The frantic woman paid no heed to the people crowding in the room, her eyes only on her brother Luke, who opened his arms to embrace his sister in a one-sided hug. “Nora!” he gasped, surprised. “Not that I’m not surprised to see you or anything, but what are you doing here? This is sort of a crime scene.”

She frowned at him, “I heard there was a murder, and I was worried about you. What do you think?”

Luke chuckled, “I’m fine, sis. You’re as bad as Mom.”

The pair laughed quietly at each other from their personal joke, and Nick marveled at how easily the two could fall into their own little world from just a few exchanged words. The detective tried to reign himself back into the crime scene, but the graveled voice of Hancock distracted him as he rumbled out, “ _Nora_? What’re you doing here, sunshine?”

_They know each other?_ Nick couldn’t help but think. It was difficult to picture the slight woman and firm ghoul being close with each other, but Nick watched quietly from the side-lines as the woman left her brother’s embrace. She sidled to the feared _Mayor of Goodneighbor_ and _hugged_ him. Nick watched with startled, raised eyebrows as she wrapped her arms around his torso and pressed her head into his chest. “I’m so sorry about your brother, John, I’m so sorry.”

To Nick’s even greater surprise, Hancock hugged _back_. “Thanks, sunshine,” he murmured into her hair as he slid his firm arms around her. “Means a lot.” Nick couldn’t take his eyes off of them. And did she just call him _John_? The Synth Detective struggled to keep his mouth from dropping in shock, and instead shifted uncomfortably as he watched the exchange occur. Nora started explaining how she had moved to Diamond City, and the mindless chatter allowed Nick to divert his attention back to the body. He observed the position the body lay in, and the bullet holes tattered through his bloody chest. There were six bullets, a full round, and all were closely concentrated to the center of McDonough’s chest, close to his heart.

“Any reports of gunshots?” Nick rumbled.

The closest guard shook his head. “No, not a thing.”

Must have used a silencer. Not that difficult to come by in these days. Nick leaned close and studied the wounds when he noticed the way McDonough’s head was tilted, exposing a particular part of his neck. A deep gash, piercing through flesh, exposed something glimmering and metallic.

_What the-_ Nick reached with his metallic hand, parting the gash with careful fingers as he tried to get a better look at what was buried in the neck of the dead Mayor. Valentine’s eyes narrowed, and with his more able hand, he reached into an inside pocket of his trench coat, retrieving a pair of tweezers. With careful and precise movements, Nick extended the tweezers into the cut. They pinched onto the edge of the glimmering material, and with a firm tug, Nick withdrew a small, compact device. “Got news for you, Hancock,” he said, his voice low as he held up the metallic chip for the others to see.

Hancock’s frown deepened, and Nick sighed as he looked more closely at the device, stained in blood. The metal beneath shimmered in the light as Nick turned it back and forth with the tweezers, and he looked over to Hancock.

“This man wasn’t your brother.”

The whole room went still.

Nora’s eyes narrowed.

Nick sighed, “He was a synth.”

A collective gasp passed through the onlookers. It would have been funny if there wasn’t a dead man lying on the floor.

Hancock tightened his palms into fists, then bowed his head. His voice grumbled, “My brother died a long time ago. I didn’t know this man. Synth or not, he was made to be like my brother, and he was always a giant ass whether he was human or not.” The ghoul took a deep breath, and let it out in a shuddering exhale. “I mourned his passing a long time ago.”

“What can you tell us about the body, Nick?” Piper asked softly while she stood nearby. Hancock turned away, and Nora leaned in close to his side, whispering words Nick couldn’t pick up.

Nick glanced back to Piper from beneath his fedora. “See how he’s on his back? Means the killer got him from the front, close-range. It was somebody he knew, or at least somebody he thought wouldn’t have attacked him. And _this_ -” Valentine traced the edges of the open gash on the back of the Mayor’s neck with a single, skeletal finger, “this cut was intentional. It was a message from the killer so we would know that the Mayor was a synth.”

“Killed by the Archangel, was this some kind of justice for a terrible crime?” Piper asked in a soft and awed tone. “What did the Mayor do that was so bad he deserved to _die_?”

“ _This,”_ Valentine gestured with his hand to the body as he snarled in return, “is not justice. Killing whoever you want just because you can is _not_ justice. That’s not how things should be done, not here in Diamond City. It’s not the Mayor’s fault he is who he is.”

Thoughtful silence permeated the room for several seconds. It was Nora who broke it when she asked, “So where do we go from here?”

Nick glanced at her, observing the hardened determination that steeled her gaze, and he found himself addressing her directly. “I’ll interview the guards that were nearby, see what they know, and we’ll go from there.” Nick turned his gaze so it focused on a quietly sobbing Geneva. “Ms. Geneva,” he called, his voice gentle.

The woman hiccuped. “Y-Yes.”

Nick bowed his head thoughtfully. “You were closest to the Mayor. It seems only fit that you would replace him, now that he’s gone.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “M- _Me_? As _Mayor_? But-but I don’t know first thing about-”

Nora stepped in, “You were part of Mayor McDonough’s daily schedule; you knew what he did and could watch how he did it. Trust us, Geneva, you’re the best person for the job.” Her honeyed words had the right effect. Geneva straightened her back a little as her posture adjusted.

“You’re right,” she said. “I did know the mayor best. I-I’ll try to fill his shoes then, and more.”

Nick glanced at Nora, and his appreciation grew.

“Better get to work, then,” he said, standing and moving away from the body. “I’ve learned all I can from the corpse. Best to bury it, now.”

The guards moved in at once, although slightly hesitant at the prospect of picking up the Mayor’s dead body. Nick moved aside, inching himself towards Nora and the others. Hancock was leaning his side into Nora, whispering in her ear with one hand placed on her shoulder. Nick’s eyes read his lips as the ghoul whispered, “ _We need to talk_ ,” as Nora nodded solemnly in agreement.

Nick’s intrigue of his woman grew as his golden eyes flickered between the two peas in a pod. “Wasn’t aware you two knew each other.”

Both looked at Nick, and Hancock grinned. “Yeah, Nora and I used to do some traveling together, back in the day. Glad we keep in touch.” His hand on her shoulder squeezed in an affectionate manner.

Nick glanced between the two of them. “Friends with the Mayor of Goodneighbor, gotta say, I’m impressed. You’re quite the woman, Nora.” Nick ducked his head down briefly, not used to saying such flowery things.

A candid blush spread through Nora’s face at Nick’s words, and Hancock threw back his head in raucous laughter, pulling Nora closer against his side as he guffawed. “ _Ha-ha_! She really is, Nicky! Best damn thing that’s ever happened to me, I’ll tell you that.”

“Thanks, Hancock; ‘means a lot,” Nora returned a little more quietly, her blush deepening by the moment.

“Anytime, sunshine,” he murmured, tilting his head down so he could whisper it against her hair. His voice dropped to a private whisper, and Nick glanced away politely, but he still heard the Mayor urge. “ _We’ll talk later, okay_?”

Nora nodded in agreement, leaning into Hancock’s touch as the ghoul pressed his thin and chapped lips to the crown of her head in a kiss. Nick expected her to grimace in disgust, but Nick reminded himself to stop underestimating this woman, because she leaned into the affectionate action by the Mayor, closing her eyes briefly at the contact. Nick felt something in his chest warm, and he didn’t think it was his fans malfunctioning.

The Mayor parted ways with Nora, both exchanging gentle smiles with the other before Hancock turned to Nick, “Take care of this one, Nick. She’s trouble. And-” he paused, lowered his voice to a grateful murmur, “thanks for helpin’ out. Never got along with my brother, especially when he became a giant ass and kicked out the ghouls from Diamond City. Suppose he might have been replaced by a Synth, but he’s always been a pretentious Upper-Stander for a long time.” Hancock shifted his weight from foot to foot before leaning in closer, “Don’t worry yourself about finding whoever did this. Synth or not, my brother died to me a long time ago.”

“Can’t let something like this go, Hancock, but I’ll remember that. Trust me, this won’t be a campaign for revenge.”

Hancock nodded curtly, then with a final good-bye to Nora, walked back to the elevator that would lead him to the entrance of the Great Green Jewel. Luke then bid his sister good-bye before following the other guards out of the room as Piper tagged behind for a statement, leaving Nick and Nora the room as Geneva sat on the couch. Tears still streamed down her face, but she was quiet as she contemplated the weight of her new position.

Nick started to tip his hat in farewell to Nora, but her smooth voice grabbed his attention, “Hey Valentine.”

He turned to her curiously. “Yeah?” he asked.

She gave a partial smile his way. “I had a nice time this afternoon. See you tomorrow for another drink? I mean-” she looked flustered for a moment, “if you’d like to. I’m not expecting a lot of business for a little while, and it was nice to have some company.”

Nick would have flushed with warmth if he were human, but he wasn’t, so he just blinked in total surprise. “Well, sure.” He hesitated. “I’m actually a little behind on some of my work; you mind if I bring it over to work on?”

“Not at all,” she assured, grinning. “See you tomorrow.”

She turned smoothly on one heel and took the outdoor elevator to the lower stands, leaving Nick at the crime scene, his hands in his pockets and his cigarette burning in his mouth.


	6. Pay No Attention to the Man Behind the Curtain!

Nick stood at Nora’s door the next day, a handful of files held under his arm and a jumble of thoughts as he knocked. When he heard Nora’s “Come in!” through the wood, he pushed the heavy red door open, sidling in and closing it shut behind him.

Nora came bobbing down the stairs straight above his head, wearing only a loose white t-shirt and jeans with the legs cut off so the fabric went to her mid-thigh. They were worn and maybe a tad too big for her, probably in an added attempt at comfort, especially in the Commonwealth heat. “Hey Nick!” she greeted, “Good to see you. Got some cases to work on?”

“Always another case to close,” he joked, chuckling. “Thanks for letting me bring them with. I’m not leaving you hanging, am I?”

Nora shook her head, dark hair flying about her as she did. “Nah, I have a book I’ve been working on, anyway. And I don’t mind some quiet.”

“Well I do appreciate it,” Nick thanked with a tip of his hat, moving towards the couch to sit down. He laid the files onto the table, looking at them thoughtfully as he got comfortable. Nora easily moved around Home Plate, reaching into the ice box for a couple of Nuka-Cola drinks.

“No problem, Nick,” she said with a gracious smile. “You’re welcome anytime.”

The old synth smiled gratefully before leaning over the table to start going over the old cases, as well as pondering this new one- the murder of Mayor McDonough. It couldn’t just be a coincidence, right? That as soon as Nick starts his investigation of the Angels, an assassination of an Upper-Stander occurs.

While buried in his thoughts, Nora sat nearby at her usual spot on the sofa, a book in tow as she sat back with her bubbly drink. She laid one on the table close to Nick, who nodded in wordless thanks as he extended his hand to the take it.

The nuka-cola bubbled pleasantly on his tongue as he sipped the drink. Time slid past the two as they sat in companionable silence. Every minute or so, the it would be disturbed by the turn of a page, or a gentle sigh as a ceiling fan whirred overhead.

After a while, Nora’s voice interrupted the train of thought that was Valentine’s processors. “Do you mind if I ask about the case you’re working on?”

Nick looked up to the curious woman, her eyes sharp and intense behind thick-rimmed eyeglasses, before shrugging half-heartedly. “Sure. Always appreciate a helpful eye.”

Nora closed her book, the movement almost eager, and placed it on the sofa as she stood to sit next to Valentine. The synth scooted over a couple of bumps to make room for her, and he wondered at at how easily she pressed their thighs against each other like he was a normal human instead of a century-old synth of wires and metal.

“So what’s this case about?” Nora asked plainly, wide green eyes curious as she leaned over the table, scanning the file alertly.

Nick cleared his throat, adjusting to her proximity as he went into detail about an old partner of his leaving in a fit of rage, and how he was now missing. Nora listened silently, taking in all this information with thinly pressed lips and a solemnity in her eyes. Nick had nearly finished explaining the details when she stood up with some gusto and declaring, “Well we better get a move on then, shouldn’t we?”

Blinking, Nick looked up at her, his head tilted back curiously. “Um, head out after Marty? But we don’t know if-”

Nora made a face, “C’mon, Nick. It shouldn’t be that hard, and I’m restless. Let’s go find him.”

Nick chuckled, “Gee, doll, I don’t know how easy you think this is going to be, I mean it’s a pretty long shot. And it’ll be dangerous, I don’t know if I can go out there with a clear conscience and-”

“Hey, Nick,” her voice called to him, and he looked up. She strapped on a sheathe for a machete over her back and another around her waist for multiple weapons and supplies. “I think I can take care of myself. C’mon, let’s go get your partner back.”

(**)

The two came back home to Diamond City that evening covered in supermutant blood and guts, but relatively unharmed. Nick felt some grief for losing his old partner, and Nora offered what comfort she could, but Nick assured her that it was the kind of life Marty lived, regardless. Nothing more to do about it.

The two parted ways that evening to get some rest and cleaned up. When Valentine saw her the next day, she smiled and greeted him with a rare hot cup of fresh coffee, despite the early hour. The two chatted about the previous day’s case, and Nick presented her with another one, this time one with some relevance to Diamond City and one of it’s chief medical staff.

Nora’s face lit up, eyes hungry as the two poured over the details of the case before going into the city to conduct a deeper investigation.

Nick delighted in how easily he and Nora worked together. While he managed to play the part of someone familiar that the people of the city recognized, Nora worked the citizens of Diamond City with a silver tongue. People fell under her spell, revealing information no one else knew, and Nick teased her after working some information out of tight-lipped Mirva, despite her distaste for Valentine.

“Could use that charmed tongue of yours more often,” Nick teased, shaking his head. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Guess I just have the magic touch,” she shrugged, grinning like the cat who caught the canary as the duo made their way to the medical den of Dr. Sun, key held in hand.

And so it went for the Synth Detective and the beautiful Commonwealth farmer. There wasn’t a case to solve every day, but Nick often reminded “The detective’s life is never dull,” and so far, he had proven it to be quite true (though Malcolm Latimer’s folder remained unsolved in a file at the office). With Nora at his side, the pair were unstoppable. Not a case passed by that they couldn’t solve while watching each others’ back. It wasn’t long before Nora was asking Valentine if he would accompany _her_ on jobs she had to do, promising to split the caps for whatever they earned.

“We might pick up some more cases,” she said in an effort to convince him. “There’s more people than just in Diamond City who might need a detective.”

Honestly, she didn’t even need to say _that_ much to get him to agree. He simply ducked his head to shield his eyes, and told her to give him some time to get some things ready. She was more than pleased by his answer, her smile stretching ear-to-ear as she told him that she would be at Home Plate when he was ready.

Nick hurried to grab his things, while Ellie watched in plain amusement, her smirk the picture of smug as the detective reached for repair kits and extra parts to take along with him.

“You’ll be all right, Ellie?” he asked, unable to stop himself from worrying about his loyal secretary. “You can manage the office while I’m gone?” There was no knowing how long this little outing would go, how much time would pass before he entered the Great Green Jewel again.

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Nick, I’ll be fine. You just go out there with Nora and stay safe. Besides, I’m too happy for you to say no, anyway.”

“Happy about what?” he asked, adjusting his hat on his head. His yellow eyes flickered over to her, blinking curiously.

The smirk lining Ellie’s face deepened, and she looked about ready to break into laughter. “C’mon, Nick, you and that Nora are thicker than thieves these days. I guess... I’m just happy to see you found someone, y’know?”

Nick wasn’t sure he liked where this was going. His metal hand faltered as he struggled to pick up an extra pack of unopened cigarettes for the road. “Found someone?” he echoed, uncertain.

“Y’know, someone who makes _you_ happy, who.. wants the same for the Commonwealth. Someone who cares about you,. . .” her smirk was positively devious now, and Valentine’s gears whirred with activity as he put together what she was hinting at.

“ _Ellie_ ,” he chastised. “It’s not like that between Nora and I. She’s quite the gal, sure, but I don’t think she’s that type of woman and I’m not that type of synth ready to-”

The secretary threw back her head in a high-pitched giggle, “What? Nick, I meant your _partner_.”

Nick pressed his lips together, displeased at the twinkle in Ellie’s eyes. She even dared to tease him with a false-innocent bat of her eyelashes as she leaned against the desk. “Why? What did _you_ mean?”

The detective scoffed under his breath, attaching his pistol to his hip as he counted that everything he owned was in order. “You’re terrible, Ellie,” he grumbled, embarrassment flushed through him. He was grateful he didn’t have the mechanical capability to _actually_ blush.

Ellie chortled and stepped closer to him so she could adjust his tie. “I know, I’m sorry for teasing. Still though, it’s nice to see you get along with someone for a change, and as something besides acquaintances.” She gave him a fond, warm look, and Nick felt so cared for as he was doted on, like by a mother or a sister, from his gentle secretary.

A smile curled half-way up his face. “Thanks, Ellie,” he grumbled. “You’re too good to me.”

“I know I am,” she laughed quietly, then leaned forward to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “Stay safe out there. I certainly feel better knowing you have someone to watch your back. Any idea of when you’ll be back?”

“Not a clue,” he answered, turning to open the office door. “See you in a few.”

(**)

Nick let himself into Home Plate quietly, bracing himself for Dogmeat to come running up to greet him like he usually did, but the playful dog was curiously absent. Nick closed the door softly behind him, his eyes scanning the room as he caught onto the sound of quiet talking beyond the thick curtain.

Curiosity coursed through Nick as he wondered what was being said, but courtesy kept him from encroaching on Nora’s privacy. After all, that was the side of Home Plate she conducted business on, dealing with clients and such. Wouldn’t be professional of him to evesdrop.

He instead sat on the couch, where he usually did, and waited silently for Nora to reappear behind the heavy red wine curtain.

The quiet talking went on for several minutes (seventeen, to be exact, but who was counting?) until Nick heard the sound of another door opening and closing, followed by silence, and then a continued conversation on the other side of the room. Tuning his head, he tried to pick out some of what was being said, or at least.. whoever was speaking. He could recognize Nora’s voice easily, but the other was harder to place. Either way, her voice sounded upset, despite her soft tone.

With a twinge of guilt, but driven by that detective’s curiosity and tendency to snoop, Valentine carefully adjusted his audio processors.

“ _-don’t have time to argue about this, Deacon. It’ll be fine. Just let Bulls-eye know about his next objective and send word to me when it’s done.”_ Her tone was curt, final. Authoritative. Nick had never heard her speak like this. He frowned softly.

“ _Just-look I just don’t want you to get hurt and watch this all unravel,”_ the other voice pleaded, respectful but desperate for her to hear him. “ _I don’t want all of our work to be wasted for nothing.”_ The voice was male, and sounded familiar, though Nick couldn’t place it.

“ _It won’t,”_ she assured him.

Silence for a few seconds, and then a heavy sigh. The unknown speaker relented. “ _Just. . . watch yourself out there, okay? I know you trust him,”_ Nick perked up _, “and he is a good man, I’ll give him that, but if he-”_

“ _I know_.” Her voice dropped heavily, frustration clear in her tone. It silenced the man, and she sighed more softly. “ _I know you’re just worried about me, but I’ll be fine. I’ve been in tougher situations than this.”_

So this was about him, about Nick. Someone who cared for Nora.. worried about her traveling with him? Because he was a synth, maybe? Nick couldn’t place who was speaking though, and he thought he knew everyone in Diamond City. Perhaps a work associate? A close business partner, someone who was close enough to Nora to speak so candidly with her.

“ _That’s what I’m worried about,”_ the man went on. “ _I’m worried you’ll get too comfortable -_ already _comfortable- and will compromise everything we’ve built.”_

“ _It won’t happen, I won’t let it.”_

Another tense silence. For a moment, Nick wondered if the two had slipped out of a back entrance without him catching it, but Nora sighed again, and her voice murmured out even more softly, “ _Thanks for watching my back, Deacon. I know I can count on you.”_

“ _Hey, anytime, Wanderer. Just. . . watch yourself.”_

“ _I will.”_

A creaking door opened, then closed. Nick sat up straighter, his fingers tapping together in quick succession. His eyes watched the heavy wine-red curtain expectantly, and it was only a moment later when Nora slid her way past the dark fabric. She didn’t see Nick at first, so he was able to see the candid frown that marred her features. She looked terribly bothered by something, and curiosity spurred Nick to speak.

“Everything all right?” he asked, voice quiet.

Nora’s head spun in Nick’s direction, her face incapable of hiding her surprise at seeing him. “Nick!” she exclaimed, and he saw the struggle for her to maintain her composure and fit the metaphorical mask back over her face. “I didn’t expect you to be back so soon. Have you been waiting long?”

“No,” he replied, and stood to his feet, but didn’t approach. He tugged at the rim of the hat on his head, waiting for her to say something more. When she didn’t, he found the nerve to voice, “Listen, doll, if there’s something going on, some trouble you’re in that you need to talk about-”

“Thank you, Nick,” she said, her voice soft. “I’m not in any trouble. It’s just,” and she sighed, “business trouble. That was my brother in the room, worried about me going out, not sure if my business would be all right depending on how long I’m gone.” She cast a sad smirk Nick’s way, and cast her eyes down. “He means well, really. Just doesn’t like being separated ever since,” and her voice dropped off at the thought of her passed husband and son.

A swoop of shame went through Nick, his chest heavy. “Sorry, doll,” he hurried to correct himself. “Just want to know you’re okay.”

A grateful expression passed over her face as she met his eyes from behind her glasses. “Thanks, Nick. I’m fine.”

He wasn’t so sure about that, but he allowed her to fall back into quiet as she moved about to start gathering her own things. “So,”she said with a strong exhale, looking at him with a growing optimism in her eyes. “You ready to go?”

His smile was thin, and he hid it beneath the brim of his fedora. “More than ever.”


	7. On the Road Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is technically chapter 7 & 8- 7 was super short so i just combined the two. enjoy!

Set with supplies, Nick let Nora know as they were heading out of Diamond City. “This is your show, now. I’ll follow you; just let me know where we’re going and I’ll be with you the whole way.”

She grinned at that, and pulled up her Pip-boy to scan the map.

Nick observed her quietly as she considered their options -where they wanted to go, what they wanted to do- and contemplated how he had missed this. He had missed traveling with a familiar, someone he felt who could maybe connect to his ideals, and still crave that burst of adventure.

Nora’s voice interrupted his musings, and he looked her way at the apologetic tone in her voice. “I have a couple of errands I need to make to some settlements. . . do you mind tagging along for that before we do anything major?”

_Settlements_? Nick picked out from her question. _More than one_? “Sure, doll,” he answered smoothly. “Whatever you need to get done, I’ll be there.”

She smiled gratefully at him, then turned her attention back to her Pip-boy as she entered the coordinates. “So we’ll be heading to Graygarden first. I need to do some trade with them, and they owe me for a job. After that we’ll keep heading Northwest until we reach Sunshine Tidings Co-op. I got word they’re having a problem, I think raiders..” She stopped to heave in a breath. “After that we should be clear to head to Sanctuary for some rest and a restock of supplies. Then once we do that we’ll be clear to check in on anything else that’s going on.” She frowned thoughtfully and bit her bottom lip. “I think I have an extra job lined up at Bunker Hill. . .”

Nick’s head spun as she listed off settlements from their agenda for their journey. “Damn, Nora,” he breathed, chuckling. “Did you organize time to sleep, too?”

She merely glanced at him before replying, “When we get to Sanctuary.”

The Synth Detective couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, and he shook his head lightly. “Didn’t know you were the busiest dame in the Commonwealth.”

“Yeah, well,” she said, hefting her pack against her back so it rested more comfortably. “You don’t really know much about me to begin with.”

“True,” Nick smirked in allowance. “Suppose this will be a good time to get to know one another more, what with all the traveling we’ll be doing.”

She looked him up and down quickly, the corner of her lips twitching into a smirk. “I guess we will.”

~~

Their steps along the pavement were amplified by the empty silence in the air as the sound bounced off abandoned buildings. Nick kept close pace with Nora, pulling tightly on his fedora when a dry breeze brushed along the rim. The woman at his side kept a swift step in her stride, arms pumping and bare of any weapons. “I want to make good time,” she said without him having to say anything. “It should take a short while to get to Graygarden to collect, but after that it’s a mostly uphill hike to get to Sunshine Tidings, and then we have to cross this bridge over the dam that usually has lots of raiders or supermutants and-”

“Been around the block a few times, haven’t you?” Nick called, a smile in his voice as he matched her pace easily after adjusting some minor settings in his legs.

She gave a subdued smile in turn, the wind brushing her hair back around her ears. “I’ve done a lot of traveling since leaving the farm.”

“No kiddin’” Nick allowed, eyeing her subtlety. “Didn’t know you had so many connections with such a great number of settlements.”

“Traveling,” is what she said. “Alliances. Treat people right, and they’ll do right by you. And I’m proud of my caravan business and how far it’s come.”

A warmth passed through Nick at her words, particularly about treating people right, and he couldn’t help the smile that lifted his expression.

Maybe there was a potential partner in her, after all.

(**)

Nick Valentine stared with interest and intrigue as he regarded the mutfruit farm, uncommunicative Mr. Handy’s clipping and trimming away busily so the bushes could grow as efficiently as possible. The detective watched from the side as brave and comfortable Nora easily passed through the bushes to approach a white Miss Nanny. The two exchanged words, and Nick moved forward to catch bits of their conversation. He picked up Nora’s voice first.

“It’s not a problem. There were just a few mirelurks in the flooded area and supermutants around it. But we got the water purification system going and the water should be better now.” Her voice was casual, indifferent to the fact she was talking to a robot like they were _equals_ of all things. Nick edged himself closer so he could linger behind Nora, patiently waiting for her to finish her conversation.

The robot (Supervisor White) lifted her voice cheerfully, “Oh, zat is wonderful, Miss Nora! Here is your compensation-” the robot lifted from seemingly nowhere a small bag of what held a few hundred caps and handed it to the traveler. Nora took it gratefully and reached behind for her backpack, sliding a zipper open with one hand and dropping it in before closing it.

“Thank you; now I’ll be back in the area probably in a while for more trade, and I’d love to buy some of your mutfruit again. It’s a bit of a favorite around the Commonwealth.”

“But of course!” Supervisor White exclaimed, unable to hide the programmed optimism in her voice, though Nick would have sworn her voice lifted with joy from Nora’s words. “Our humble settlement produces only the best mutfruit of the whole area. We would love to have your business again, and of course, we will consider you for hire if further issues arise.”

Nora smiled easily, “Thanks, and if the water starts acting up, just send word to Sanctuary and I should get wind of it.”

The robot’s eyes arched in a way that might have displayed gratitude, and Supervisor White crooned, “Thank you very much, dear; and please don’t hesitate to stop by anytime.” The robot’s eyes continued to move in a hovering fashion. “And please, thank your companion for me. I didn’t catch his name, but we’re grateful for his help regardless.”

Nora grinned at the robot, adjusting the pack over her shoulder. “I will. Thanks again!” She cast a glance towards Nick, jutting her head north, telling him it was time to get a move on.

He hurried over to her, tipping his hat to Supervisor White as he did in farewell, then turned back to Nora. “I’ve never been to this farm before.”

“It’s impressive,” Nora replied. “I had never heard of something like it, either, but they’re a great group, and they always do fair trade. They might make a good place for settlers, too, if I can convince them.” She cast a glance over her shoulder at the disappearing greenhouse, then turned back forward to hike up the hill further north.

Nick smiled to himself, looking at his feet, dead leaves and debris crunching underneath, and he glanced back to Nora. “It doesn’t bother you?”

“What doesn’t bother me?” she asked, focused on the trail ahead.

“That they aren’t human.”

She paused, very briefly, so fast Nick might have missed it if he was a human, or even a human-looking synth. But he wasn’t, so he heard the brief hesitation in her step before she plowed on, and this time she did turn her head to look at him, her eyes a murky green behind her smudged eyeglasses. “Of course it doesn’t.”

Nick found himself caught in her gaze for a fast moment, enough time for a low smirk to slide up her face, and to then turn back towards the way ahead.

The dame was on to him.

It took a moment for his words to fall back into place, but they did as Nick cleared his throat when her gaze broke away for him to catch-up behind her. “Didn’t peg you for that kinda type.”

“What type?” she asked.

Nick matched her pace. “The type that cares about the non-human type.” _Synth sympathizer_ is what he wanted to say, but that was such a hot topic in the Commonwealth; he didn’t want to ask her about that just yet, but if she treated _robots_ with such civility, maybe, just maybe. . . he had a-

“They have feelings, too,” Nora stated. “They have thoughts, ideas, and they can reflect kindness. Don’t they deserve as much respect as we can give anyone else?” She stopped again to look at Nick, wanting to know his own thoughts. “Don’t you believe the same, Nick?”

He smiled to himself, ducking his head down. “I do,” he agreed, liking how this conversation was going. In a moment of decision, he chose to throw caution to the wind as he pried more, “I think the same about synths, too.”

“Oh, no doubt,” Nora agreed, and set the pace again to keep walking. Caught off-guard, Nick started after her as she continued speaking. “I think they show more humanity than some regular people I’ve known. I think they have as much potential for good or evil as anyone does. I’ve met many a synth who have saved my life, offered me kindness, protected me, sheltered me when I needed it.” She paused in thought, perhaps recalling the times she spoke of. “And I’ve met people who lie, kill, and hurt, just because they can.” She frowned darkly, “I’ve known people who have done terrible things.”

Nick couldn’t help but think of Eddie Winter as she said this, and he bowed his head in agreement. He looked to her as they walked stride for stride. “I couldn’t agree with you more, doll,” he amended.

She glanced his way with a half-smile. “Well, how could I think any different? Especially meeting as good a man as you.”

The compliment she laid before him without any warning left him shell-shocked for a moment, and she knew it, the minx. With a grin, she hurried forward in a jog to the north. “Come on!” she called. “We need to get to Sanctuary before night-fall!”

Nick only smiled in reply, and hurried after her into the Commonwealth forest.

(**)

The journey to each settlement Nora headed towards was an uneventful one. They stopped first at Sunshine Tidings Co-Op, a large and thriving rural settlement of 17, almost with a big enough population to challenge Diamond City. It was well fortified with guard posts and turrets, surrounded by small cabins arranged in a circle towards a barn-like building. Crops of all kind surrounded one side of it, groups of corn stretching to the blue sky surrounded by bushes of mutfruit, vines of tatoes and large balls of gourds and melons. Valentine watched Nora as she grabbed the settlement’s leader to ask for an update on the settlement. Her tone was direct and clear as Nick walked around the area, keeping one ear listening in on the conversation.

“There’s a group of raiders been giving us trouble,” the dark-skinned woman reported somewhat uncertainly. “Over at the Corvega Assembly Plant.”

The detective glanced to his companion, and he watched as her expression almost melted into a somewhat comedic look. Her mouth pulled taut at the corners, thinning her lips as her eyebrows shot to the top of her forehead, like someone was pulling at her face from all angles. Nick had the impression that she seemed greatly strained yet ultimately slighted by this information.

The settler seemed to observe this as well, and she started to interject, “But, please, the Assembly Plant is so much-”

“I’ve got it.”

Nick swiveled his head to Nora, his optics nearly bugging out of his sockets. _What_?!

Her goofy expression was smooth and now so cleanly replaced with one of patience, and quiet acceptance. “I know the layout of that building well. This isn’t the first time a group of raiders have taken it over as a hideout. I can clear them out in no time.”

Valentine lifted his brows, wondering if he should be incredibly impressed or absolutely _horrified_. This woman had taken out a gang of raiders holed up in the Assembly Plant? He had never been there himself, but knew the gangs who took up in the plant were often the toughest, meanest, and the strongest out of the rest in the ‘Wealth.

And . . . _this woman_ -!

“Well, doll, you went in with a group, surely-?” Nick prompted, wondering if she were allied with the Minutemen, considering her background as a farmer. It was likely she knew of them.

Nora looked like a radstag caught in the sights of a shotgun, giving the detective the impression that she had said too much in front of him. He was reminded of a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. “I – um, not exactly. Just me and Dogmeat,” she stammered in reply.

Nick paused to consider this. “How many were-”

She shrugged. “Several dozen.”

_Several_ dozen.

Not five, or three, or ten, or even twenty.

_Several dozen_.

Nick felt a swooping in his head, like he should probably sit down, or run screaming from whoever he had chosen to be his companion. This crazy, determined, ridiculous, incredible, _absolutely bear-headed-_

Nick chuckled and shook his head slowly, “Remind me to never get on your bad side, doll.”

She smiled a little abashedly and ducked her head, looking pleased, before she turned back to the settler. “We’ll take care of those raiders for you and be back in a couple days’ time.”

Relief passed over the leader’s face, and she reached for Nora’s hand to shake it. “Thank you. You’re an angel, Nora. Truly.”

Nick noticed with a keen eye that Nora’s smile was strained.

(**)

The pair of wanderers left Sunshine Tidings Co-op in the early afternoon and found themselves at the Abernathy Farm a short hour later. Nora did the typical exchange of information and an exchange of caps for services in clearing out a patch of ghouls nearby.

The settlement itself was small with just a single farm house and a handful of settlers to occupy it. Nick wondered if this was the type of place Nora grew up at, just a family farm with a fence to protect them from the rest of the world.

He made a face. It sounded frightening, but it must make family all the more comforting.

But also dangerous.

He couldn’t help but glance to Nora sympathetically as they were walking to whatever settlement was next. The incline of the hill was pretty steep, and Nick was trailing behind her a step so he was looking up at her. His steps must have faltered when he glanced her way, because she turned her head to look at him, matching his gaze when he didn’t break from her stare. She raised an eyebrow at his expression, and asked, “What?”

Nick took a second to be thoughtful before he found his voice. “Just thinking about all this, about the life these people live out here with hardly any protection. . . At Diamond City, we’re safe behind the Wall and have enough security to patrol it’s borders. But out here. . .” Nick’s voice trailed off, and he looked at the vast empty space. The only thing that met his gaze was rolling fields of dry grass and gray skeletal trees. In the far distance, he could see the towers of the Boston area, covered in a radiated haze from such a long ways off. “It’s barren,” Nick said, filling in the space with his words. “Hardly any help for miles. If something goes wrong, it can take so long for help to get to you.”

Nora said nothing in reply to his reflection on the wasteland, but Nick filled the quiet for her. “It must be part of why you do this, right?”

Her head turned more towards him, the wind picking up strands of her dark hair as she carefully tilted her chin down at his words. He prompted from her silence, “Growing up at a farm like the ones we’ve been to today with hardly any resources. You give them hope and someone to rely on; you’re trying to be someone that you wish you had when you were living out here.” He paused thoughtfully. “Someone to protect your family.”

He had let his gaze trail away from her while speaking, and he looked back towards her eyes for verification of his words. Surprised, he found her green depths cold as ice, like a dark emerald forest drenched in frigid rainwater.

Nora said not a word, and turned to keep hiking up the trail.

Nick flinched a little at her silence, afraid he might have hit a nerve, and he hurried to catch up to her fast pace. When he fell in step at her side, she didn’t look his way, her gaze trailed only to what was ahead of them.

Abashed, the detective cast his gaze down, ashamed. Perhaps he had pried too deep, tried too soon to put the puzzle pieces in place.

The only sound to keep the pair company was their steps on the dead ground beneath them, and the high whistling of the wind about their ears.

(**)

It was near sunset when they crested the top of the hill, the sun low on the horizon, casting the Commonwealth in long shadows, the sky still a warm blue before it would bleed with color and fall into darkness. Nick and Nora paused at the top, breathing carefully as they looked at an abandoned Red Rocket station below, and in the distance, a settlement glowing with light.

Nick stared thoughtfully at the settlement not far off, then to the rocket station. It seemed barren at the moment, but lights betrayed the fact that someone lived there.

“Tired yet, Valentine?” Nora asked jokingly, the first time she’d spoken to him since her quiet spell earlier. Nick nearly startled at her voice, and he chuckled.

“We’ll have to walk a ways before you tire me out,” he teased. “I’ll bet I can go longer than you.”

Nick felt a quick swoop of uncertainty at his words, but he found Nora was quick to reply when she snipped, “I’ll have to keep that in mind for later, then.”

He turned his head so fast in her direction he thought his neck might snap from the momentum of it. His widened yellow optics caught a glimpse just in time to see a knowing smirk curling up her face, and she winked at him before immediately running down the hillside to the road below.

Valentine breathed out shakily, a laugh edging his voice as he shook his head in disbelief, and then took off down the hill after her.

He hadn’t been a child in a long, long, _long_ time, but in that moment, running after Nora, he could swear in that moment he still was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank GOD some FLIRTING, FINALLY
> 
> dont forget to comment! <3
> 
> we meet 3 more companions in the next chapter! any idea who?? ;)


	8. Her (Their) Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and Nora finally arrive in Sanctuary- Nick meets a couple of new (more or less) friendly faces, and pokes around and does some investigation of his own.

“Welcome to Sanctuary!” Nora declared as they walked down the last half of the creaky wooden bridge, past the old Red Rocket.

Nick admired the post-apocalyptic neighborhood with awe and admiration, gazing with interest at the still-standing buildings and patrolling settlers. Night was almost upon the Commonwealth, yet the settlement was aglow with fires for cooking and the from lights hung between houses on string, illuminating the street and homes with light.

“It’s -” Nick stammered. “It’s amazing.” He looked at the farmers and ranchers moving about dressed in the typical clothes of the ‘Wealth. As Nick and Nora started walking among through the repurposed homes, a few settlers glanced his way, but made no fuss. The detective noted keenly that several of the settlers were carrying muskets, laser rifles, and Minutemen hats. He looked to Nora, who looked comfortable and nearly _relieved_ that they were here. “This place is allied with the Minutemen, huh?”

Nora nodded, and she looked like she wanted to answer his question, but Nick’s train was suddenly interrupted by a loud and joyful bark.

Nick’s traveling companion turned so fast that Nick was surprised she didn’t fall over from the spin. Nora grinned ear to ear, her eyes the brightest he’d ever seen them, and she cried out a name Nick hadn’t expected to hear as she drooped to her knees with her arms thrown open.

“ _Dogmeat_!”

Nick was wondering if she was hallucinating, but sure enough, that black and brown ball of fur came barreling out of twilight darkness right into the waiting arms of Nora. The dog bounced happily up and down, whining with his tail wagging so fast it blurred as he eagerly reunited with his master.

“That dog made it all the way here by himself?” Nick asked, appalled. “And he found you so fast-”

Nora hugged the dog close to her, ruffling his fur and petting him quickly as she brushed her hands over his back and ruffled the fur along his scruff. “Well, you don’t know how close we really are,” she said, and something twinkled in her eye, like some secret Nick could never even begin to understand. It was as gone as he saw it, though, so he put it out of his mind so he could reach down and good-naturedly pet the joyful dog.

“Knight!” a voice called.

Nick lifted his head at the new sound, his eyes adjusting when he saw a handsome young man come trotting down the street, wearing a bright orange flyer suit. Nora, too, turned toward the man approaching her, and she stood to her feet as he neared them. When he was close enough, he came to a halt and raised his fist in a salute as he pounded it against his chest, his thick brows set low over his eyes in a solemn grimace. “Welcome back!”

_Brotherhood_.

Immediately, Nick’s eyes narrowed as he glanced between this stranger and Nora, who he was pleased to see looked the taddest bit strained as she smiled carefully. Instead of returning his salute, she lifted her hand in greeting before lowering it back to her side, still crouched low as she pet Dogmeat amicably. “Good to see you, Danse. And you know I’m not part of the Brotherhood anymore. Please,” and she cast an almost nervous glance towards Nick, “Nora is just fine.”

The man -Danse- frowned a tinge at that in possible disapproval, but said nothing as he lowered his fist. “It’s good to have you back.”

“You as well,” she replied carefully. Nick regarded Danse a little coldly, observing the clean-cut stubble and haircut. The man was muscular, as all Brotherhood types were, with large hands scarred and stained with motor oil. Likely working on his Power Armor, no doubt. Damn Brotherhood and their machines. . .

Nick felt the distaste in him curdle with glee when the paladin looked at Nick, as if only just now realizing the synth was present. “And what’s this?” he asked Nora. The more this human looked at Nick, the more he seemed to dislike, and the man frowned more and more deeply as the seconds ticked by.

“The name’s Valentine, _Nick_ Valentine,” the detective bit out. “And it’s _who_ not _what_.” He knew in hindsight it would probably be better to be less hostile with people Nora clearly considered allies, but, damn if he didn’t hate the Brotherhood with every wire that crossed his circuits.

The man called Danse upturned his mouth in a sneer at Valentine’s words, and he turned sharply to Nora. “You’re traveling with a _synth_ , Knight? A thing and a _threat_ the Brotherhood has _sworn_ to eliminate?”

It didn’t even take a second for Nora’s voice to go from molten iron to hard-edged steel. Her eyes glinted dangerously at the Brotherhood solider. “This is my _friend_ , Nick Valentine. He’s a _good man_ , Danse, and you will give him _respect_ , else you will lose _mine_.”

Nick wasn’t sure if she was aware, but Nora took a careful step towards Nick as she stood to her full height, just a little in front of him, like she was protecting him.

An emotional wave of gratitude and awe passed through Nick, but he fought to keep it down as he glared silently at the Brotherhood member. The synth chose to say nothing.. this time.

Nora waited for Danse to speak, and he nodded, not-surprisingly compliant when it came to authority and a direct order. “Understood,” he grumbled.

She wasn’t done. “You will treat him as you treat me – with the utmost courtesy. If I hear one whisper in the whole Commonwealth that you aren’t being the definition of a welcoming host to him, I’ll kick you out of here so fast your head will spin.”

Danse nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

Nora regarded him with narrowed eyes, but they softened about the edges. “It’s good to see you again, Danse.”

Something in him looked a little relieved as he smiled. “You too, Kn – Nora.”

Sensing a dismissal, Danse turned and started jogging back up the hill to a house bathed in orange glowing light. From where Nick stood, he could see glints of steel and tools littered about the make-shift garage. Danse called over his shoulder as he went, “The synth doesn’t sleep with me!”

Nora didn’t take the declare too seriously, though, and she simply rolled her eyes before turning back to Nick, who stared at her with a raised and expectant eyebrow.

“Save it,” she told the detective before he could utter a single syllable, or rattle off a line of questioning like she was a suspect being interrogated. “You can ask me questions when we get settled in.” She rolled her shoulders, and Nick heard some pops as her joints settled. “I need to get this backpack off or it might crush me.”

Nick’s optics sharpened as he looked at her in sudden concern, “Anything I can lug for ya?” he asked.

“No,” Nora denied, and she adjusted the pack over her shoulders. “When Trashcan Carla gets here I can trade some stuff with her. Till then, we’ll stay holed up here and restock on supplies.” She slowly started towards a house, weighted down from the heaviness of her backpack, and walked across the street to an empty house. Nothing seemed to stand out from the place in particular, to set it apart from the others on the street. It was a pale blue, peeled and faded after years against Nuclear Winter, illuminated by the lights from the street. Holes littered the side; the windows were long since blown out- either from the nuclear blast, or from looters- typical wear and tear from the Commonwealth- but it looked sturdy enough.

Nick found his gaze drawn to the front yard, grass long since green and lush now pale, dry, and completely dead. There were two lawn chairs in the front surrounding a spot for a campfire, facing the street, and a put-together dog house rested against the side of the larger building. Dogmeat didn’t waste time as he went to the side of one of the chairs, lying down and claiming his own spot. Nick turned to Nora.

“This your place?” he asked, appraising the house. He looked at the torn panes of material, the empty spaces in the roof. Overall, not bad by Commonwealth standards. A robot hovered around in the front, clipping importantly at the hedges so they were in a complete straight line across. It hit a nostalgic nerve with Nick to see that, reminding him of the pre-war days, even if he as never really ever part of it.

Nora sounded a little strained. “Yep,” she replied heavily. “This is my place. Still have the signed papers and everything.” She went to the chair, slinging the heavy pack of supplies onto the ground with a thud before falling into the lawn chair. Nick followed her suit, chuckling, and went to sit in the free chair at her side. “It’s not a permanent home, but it’s a place to kick your feet up.”

Nick had _so_ many questions; it was enough to drive a man crazy. He opened his mouth, “So you-”

“ _General_!”

Dog, synth, and human turned to the voice. Nora stood quick to her feet, smiling as she called out in greeting, “Preston!”

A handsome young man ran towards Nora, beaming from ear to ear, carrying a laser rifle in one hand and wearing a Minuteman hat upon his head. Nora ran out to meet him, and when they embraced, he wrapped one arm around her back as she threw hers about his neck. “Welcome home,” the man said to her warmly.

Nick felt something deep stir in him, something warm but uncomfortable. Maybe it was his wiring getting displaced from being so old.

_This guy must be a boyfriend of some sort. They seem so happy to see each-_

His train of thought immediately ground to a halt as Nora took a pace back, and the pair grasped forearms with each other in a secure and familiar greeting. At once, Nick was reminded of brothers-in-arms seeing each other after a long separation. The detective’s thoughts were immediately validated as Preston asked, “Been protecting the people of the Commonwealth, General?”

_General_? Nick turned his head to look at Nora, who nodded in affirmation at Preston, smiling. “Of course,” she replied. “Came up here from Diamond City. Stopped by Graygarden, Sunshine, and Abernathy Farm. All is well, but Nick and I are planning on heading to Corvega to eliminate a little raider problem.”

Preston grunted in agreement. He wasn’t surprised. “Hm, Corvega again? Be safe when you go, ma’am.”

Her reply was prompt, “Of course. Anything to report here?”

_She_ is _in the Minutemen,_ Nick deduced easily enough, conversation clear. The problem was that the piece didn’t fit all the way. Every time Preston called Nora ‘General,’ she seemed to withdraw a little into herself, just barely enough to notice.

“Nope. All is quiet here, ma’am. And we haven’t heard any report of issues as of this moment, but I’ll be sure to let you know if something comes up.”

Nora laughed somewhat ironically. “I don’t doubt you will. And Preston, you _know_ I’m not a General anymore.”

The Minuteman had enough grace to look abashed at being caught. “I know, but it feels weird calling you anything else.”

“From you, I’ll allow it for now,” she sighed, rolling her eyes a little.

“What news from Graygarden?” Preston pried. “Any sign that they’ll. . . ?”

Nora shook her head. “Not yet, but I’ll be sure to bring it up next time I pass through there.”

Preston smiled. “That would be a great set-up for a settlement. It’s not in the most ideal location, but it’d be a great start-up with those Mr. Handy’s already running the farm. It would give settlers more opportunities to build up a settlement. Fortify it, work on establishing water lines or something-”

Nick narrowed his eyes in the slightest, but said nothing.

“Oh, and Preston-!” Nora exclaimed, and she reached over for Nick, who felt a bit startled. Nora lightly touched the area behind his shoulder to bring him closer so he stood at her side. “This is Nick Valentine. He’s been traveling with me.” Nick nodded in greeting as Nora returned, “And Nick, this is Preston, Lieutenant General of the Minutemen.”

Any Minuteman in Nick’s book was a good man, so he smiled politely. “Good to meet you, Lieutenant. I gotta say, I’m quite a fan of what the Minutemen are doing in the Commonwealth.”

Preston, who might have regarded Nick with more reservations earlier, immediately brightened up when Nora introduced him as a traveling companion. Nick chose to tuck that observation away for later. “Good to meet you, too, sir. And thank you; we’re just trying to make life better for folks out here.”

Nick smiled to himself. Yeah, he liked this guy.

Preston went on. “This woman will sure take you for a ride when you travel with her. And hell, she doesn’t usually take just anyone out wandering. You must be someone pretty special, Mr. Valentine.”

“Means you’re pretty special, too, Preston,” Nora teased, pushing the Lieutenant playfully.

The group laughed softly, and Preston tipped his hat towards the detective. “Well, seems like I’m leaving her in good hands. You take care of her, Mr. Valentine; keep her out of trouble.”

Nick chuckled at that, spying Nora as she made a face. “Heh, I’ll keep out of trouble if _she_ does.”

Nora smirked, a bit of a twinkle in her eye as she was quick enough to catch Nick’s gaze.

(**)

Preston left to go take up the night patrol of Sanctuary, leaving Nora and Nick to build a fire and get settled.

Nora was swift and immediately went to grabbing things from her pack she could use as kindling in the campfire spot. Old matchboxes, pencils, random pieces of wood or crumpled paper stained yellow with age were used for the fire, and Nick was the one to helpfully offer a means to light the material with his cigarette lighter. “And who says that smoking isn’t good for you?” he synth teased as he handed the small device to Nora, who smirked at his joke and went to light the kindling.

“Oh, I don’ know, maybe common sense?” she teased in return. “Not all of us have iron lungs.” He smiled at her teasing, laughing a little himself as he sat back. Once the kindling had lit and started to devour the thicker logs, Nora handed the lighter back to Nick, and leaned back to sit in the lawn chair. She released a heavy sigh as she allowed herself to relax. Without hesitation, she stretched her legs out toward the warmth of the fire, releasing an exhausted yawn. Nick watched quietly, waiting patiently. Only after a couple of silent moments passed did she sigh and wave her hand towards him. “Go ahead,” she allowed.

Nick perked up _immediately_ at her verbal grant of permission, and the detective in him crowed at the idea of being able to ask this mysterious woman more about her background. “The Brotherhood?” he asked skeptically, as if he couldn’t believe she was ever part of their insane cult. It didn’t seem like she fit in with the ideals of their group, considering the conversations the pair had on their travels in regard to synth rights.

Nora sighed again, but this one sounded a little bit more exasperated. She rubbed her forehead, like if she did that long enough, it would get rid of a headache. “It was early on after I lost my family. I was. . .” she struggled to find a proper word. “I was desperate,” she chose to say, looking away from Nick as she answered his question. He wondered if she was embarrassed by whatever her past included with them. Although, considering the Brotherhood, and what her moral and views were now.. maybe she was ashamed.

The detective nodded in affirmation to what she said. Joining the Brotherhood for such a reason as that was rather common in the Commonwealth. Most folks weren’t fortunate enough to survive at one location with every family member intact, so in the face of loss, the Brotherhood was always swift to pick up new recruits to their cause and way of life. Clearly, Nora was no exception.

With no further clarifying questions for that, Nick turned to another topic, appraising her with a knowing half-smile. “General?” he asked with a glint in his eye.

She pursed her lips a little bit as her face pinked around the roundness of her cheeks. “I’ve known the Minutemen for ages since I was a kid, so when I finally left the Brotherhood after I realized what they were really about, I was able to improve and move the Minutemen up to a higher place of prestige.” Carefully, Nora straightened herself up in her seat; the dancing flames sent dashes of orange light against her soft and smooth face. “I worked my way up the ranks; did a lot of good for them, and became their General.” She sat back now, lifting her leg up so it rested on her other knee. “But after the Institute fell, I was tired, so I quit then. Preston has essentially been my field-director since the beginning, and now he’s pretty much my replacement.”

Nick couldn’t help but think of the soldier boy in orange. “And what about that dancing fellow?”

Nora made a bit of a face and shifted where she sat, snorting with laughter at the pun. “Danse is rough around the edges,” she had the grace to admit. Reaching down to the side where her pack was, Nora grabbed a couple of cold beers, and offered one to Nick, who held up his hand in passing. She shrugged and twisted the cap. It hissed in protest, and she stuffed the cap into her pocket as she took a swig of the drink. “Don’t judge him too harshly, though,” she said. “He carries a lot of baggage with him, and not just the physical kind.” Nora smirked at her jest, and Nick returned it carefully. He tapped his fingers together.

“What did a Brotherhood Knight have to do to wind up out here?” he asked softly, as if wanting to avoid Danse from overhearing.

Nora’s expression sobered a bit. “I . . .” she frowned a little. “I don’t think I’m really at liberty to talk about it. Just-” a sigh, “just know that he’s gonna come around eventually. It just takes time. Just ignore his behavior if he’s bad around you for now, and if it gets bad, let me know.”

Nick blinked, thoughtful, but nodded in understanding. “Fair enough,” he said. The detective could tell when it wasn’t an appropriate time to pry, so he pressed his lips together in understanding and didn’t push any further. He may be a detective, but he knew a thing or two about respecting someone’s privacy. When Nick didn’t ask for any more clarification, Nora sighed contently, and went back to her drink.

An hour or so passed in easier conversation. Nick asked about some of Nora’s past, about her time with the Brotherhood, then steered over to stories of the Minutemen when her expression began to sour. Nora lounged in the lawn chair, gazing hazily out into the distance. Nick kept at her side companionably, staring into the fire and periodically looking up to gaze at the twinkling stars. Dogmeat lay at Nora’s side, sleeping, his ears folded back against his head, snoring softly.

“Do you hear what they say?” Nora asked suddenly into the darkness, startling Nick for a moment fom their shared moment of quiet up to then. He turned his head to look at her.

Something heavy weighed in Nora’s gaze. Something he would never be able to comprehend. “Hear what they say about what?” he asked. His voice was unintentionally quiet, as if some part of him knew what Nora was leading up to, or at least that it was serious.

“What they say about her _._ You know. The One. The one who destroyed the Institute. The Woman who freed the Commonwealth from the Boogeyman.” Her voice was flat, and she didn’t turn her head or eyes to look at Nick.

The synth mirrored her body language as he turned his eyes to the horizon, past the houses and into the dark. “Not much. I know Piper had an interview with her. Apparently she didn’t get a lot of information out of her, though. She wanders around a lot, from what I’ve heard.” Nick hadn’t tried to pry Piper on the identity of the Institute Destroyer, just that she wished to remain anonymous- and Nick knew far better than to try to pry and crack at Piper’s reporter’s honor like it was some clam that needed cracking open for the pearl inside.

Nora’s gaze was dark, her expression somber. “They say she came from the North, born of ice so cold that it burns you when you touch it. They say she came to bring justice to those who had none, to bring peace to people who never knew it.” Nora took another sip of her drink. Nick stayed quiet and wondered if she’d maybe had too much. “I think that’s bull,” Nora decided, and she slouched a little bit more in her seat. Her voice barely softened. “I think she was born from a destructive and burning fire, only born to bring pain and suffering. But not to others. I think she gave all of the kindness in her for the Commonwealth, but ended up leaving her with nothing, so that then, all that’s left of her is just this empty, lifeless shell.”

Thoughtful, and convinced without a doubt that Nora was more than a little tipsy, Nick chose to be wise and remain quiet. Nora didn’t seem to care, and she tossed her bottle half-heartedly into the street. The thick glass clattered to the pavement, not shattered, but cracked. With Nick’s keen eyes, he could see a gush of fluid leaking out onto the ground.

And then Nora began to sob.

It came from seemingly nowhere. Nick startled, and then found he could only stare blankly from shock as this strong and impenetrable woman- this fortitude of an individual- she lifted her hand to cover her eyes, mouth turned down in grief as thick and heavy sobs began to shake her body. “God, Nick,” she hiccuped, and he saw her hands trembling as tears trailed dusty paths down her face. “I’m an empty shell, just filled with nothing; I don’t have anything left, it’s just gone and no one is-”

“Hey hey hey hey,” Nick interrupted, and he came around so he crouched in front of Nora’s chair, his metal hand resting on her knee. “You’re doing just fine. You’re not a shell.”

She kept crying, but her hand grabbed onto his own, the one covered in fake human flesh. “Really?” she asked, her glossy eyes shining with tears. “You don’t think I’m a shell?”

“You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met,” he told her. “If you were an empty shell, I don’t think you would let yourself be kind at all.”

Her smile was grateful, and she lifted his old and worn hand so she could place a sloppy drunk kiss to his palm. “Thanks Nic – Nicky. You’re a great guy.”

Nick pressed his lips together in a strained expression, but he patted her knee in comfort before standing, keeping a firm grip on her hand. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Okay,” she agreed compliantly, and went easily enough with the synth into the old abandoned house. “Bedroom is at the end, on the lllleft. No – the right.”

He found it on the left, as she said, and led her to the bed. Once she sat on the mattress, he helped remove her boots, tossing them into the corner where they would wait until morning. Nora looked blearily at him before moving into the bed and pulling the blankets up over her. “Mkay thanks goodnight,” she slurred all together, and turned away from him with her head resting on the pillow. Within a few moments, her breathing deepened with sleep.

Nick chuckled softly before quietly leaving her room. He walked carefully down the hallway, looking at the pictures along the walls, faded and dusty with passed time. The detective stepped into the living room, and took in a moment to observe the old furniture. A faded red couch faced the eastern wall of the living room with a single sofa sitting adjacent to it. There was an old stereo under the windows that lined the front of the house, and the kitchen looked no different than any of the other abandoned homes Nick had seen in the Commonwealth.

He wondered at it, though, when he looked at the old amenities littered throughout the home. He wondered about the people who might have lived there, what they were like. What kind of lives did they live? What kind of people were they? Did they throw barbeques and go to church? Did they both work or did the husband work while the wife was a home-maker?

Nick thought about it, and as he did, he chose to walk the perimeter of the house, observing the small things Nora had collected to keep here. Bobbleheads, drinks in the fridge, and extra boxes of food sat along the counter. A siren call went out not long after Nick started wandering through the house, and he watched as lights went out around the neighborhood, leaving only a few on as curfew began.

Every once in a while, Nick would step into Nora’s room to check on her and make sure she was doing all right, and it was during one of those checks that Nick saw the next room across the hallway. The one with the crib in it.

He stood at the entrance of the room, somber. He looked at the chipped blue paint on the wood and observed the broken-down mobile that dangled above the old mattress.

“Damn,” Nick uttered, looking in pity at the deteriorating crib. It was a family home. Sometime somewhere, a family used to occupy this house. Reminders like that splashed Nick with the cold reality of what the bombs had done to civilization, to people with families, loved ones. A sobering thought, indeed.

Something like grief passed through Nick’s form when thinking this, and he dug into his pocket for a cigarette. He fished around for a moment and pulled out the nearly-empty box. When he lit it, the burn in his mechanical lungs and throat was a welcome one. He breathed in the hot smoke before exhaling it slowly. It dissipated into the night, and while Nick wanted to step in and look around the room, he couldn’t. There was almost an invisible wall keeping him from entering, like there was something still sacred dormant there.

It didn’t look like Nora had left anything in this room or even taken anything from it; it was nearly untouched. Nothing had been shoved to the wall or moved aside. Blocks and toys were left strewn about, and there were no signs that anyone called this nook their home or even used it.

So instead of intruding himself on the sanctity of the room, Nick took a deep breath of his cigarette and let the smoke out slowly. He wondered why Nora would leave this room, of all the others. Maybe she had no purpose for it. Or perhaps she, too, sensed the sanctity of leaving a room like this be. As a shrine for the people who used to live there. Or perhaps it was in grief- respect for some parents losing their child, as she had lost hers.

Either way, it warmed Nick’s gears to know she would offer the same respect and honor to those long past, and he smiled secretly to himself. Another way he and Nora were similar- he liked that. It was interesting; he didn’t often find someone to match up with him so well.

_Perhaps Ellie is right_ , Valentine allowed himself to think. _Maybe she could be a good partner._

Now wasn’t the time to decide such things, though. Not when his potential-partner was asleep in the next room, waiting for dawn to break. If he was going to be serious about choosing Nora as a partner, he would need to first assess on what her thoughts of it would be, and to do that, she had to be awake.

Resigning himself that he wasn’t going to get anything done late this night, Nick stepped back from the still room and made his way to the couch in the living room. The cushions and springs were slightly squeaky, but it was comfortable enough to last until morning.

Nick slouched down on the cushions, allowing his neck to rest against the back of the couch. In a very human-like way, he pulled the brim of his fedora down so it covered his eyes, and he set his internal ‘sleep’ watch to four hours from he present when it would be 6 am. “Might as well reboot the old servos while we’re sitting here,” he mumbled to himself, and when his breathing slowed, Nick let himself fall into darkness.

(**)

When Nick’s servos booted up again two hours later, Nick lifted the brim of his hat up so he could see. His form had settled comfortably into the couch, and when he adjusted his position on the cushions, his foot brushed Dogmeat lying on the floor. The dog lifted his shaggy head to look at Nick, his ears perked curiously. The synth smiled carefully and leaned forward so he could pat the dog comfortingly. A long pink tongue lolled from his mouth, and the sound of his tail on the ground caused some warmth to go through Nick’s chest. Agh, there was always just something so reassuring about a dog. . .

Nick stood to his feet carefully and tiptoed around where Dogmeat lay. The detective looked at his watch. Six a.m. was still pretty early, and Nick didn’t know when Nora would want to get a move on. Considering how much sleep she had gotten while they were out (meaning little), it wouldn’t surprise him if she took a bit longer to reboot her batteries.

It didn’t take much decision, then, for Nick to choose to walk around the place a bit before he would return to check on Nora. He cast one furtive glance down the hall, listening to Nora’s slow rhythm of breathing, and then slid to the front door where he could ease to the outside.

Even so early in the morning, settlers of Sanctuary were starting to move about and go attend to their tasks. Nick walked carefully down the main street of the settlement, taking caution to avoid people when they cast him odd looks, or even ones that went so far as to be called hostile. Although Nick was sure that most of them didn’t mean any genuine harm to him, he didn’t want to take any chances, especially in a settlement he wasn’t familiar with.

Nick wandered down to the entrance of the settlement at the bridge crossing the stream. Two adjacent watchtowers were set up to view the area beyond the bridge. A settler in a yellow trench coat stood in one, and in the other, Nick recognized Preston, standing vigil as he guarded their Sanctuary.

Feeling like Preston was someone Nick could safely approach, the synth neared the tower. “Quiet night?” he called.

Preston glanced down to him, and nodded. He stood with his laser rifle resting on the ground, but at Nick’s call, turned and lifted it in his arms as he walked down the stairs to exit the Watchtower. “All quiet,” he returned. “How’s Nora?”

“She’s fine,” Nick replied, and in light of being social, dug around for another cigarette in his pocket. When the synth pulled out the box, he offered one to the attentive young man, who held up a hand in refusal. Nonplussed, Nick lit the small stick, inhaling deeply when the tip caught. “Sleeping a lot, which has got to be a good sign.”

The Minuteman chuckled. “Heh, Nora’s like that. She’ll go for days with hardly any sleep, food, water, but when she gets somewhere safe, she just _crashes_.”

_Hm_. Nick carefully raised an eyebrow in notice of what Preston meant. “You traveled with her, then?” he tried to ask in a casual, conversation-type way.

Preston nodded. “Yeah. For a while.”

Nick considered this, keeping a mental tally. _Hancock,_ _Piper,_ _Dogmeat, and now Preston. Sounds like Nora has done more than her fair share of traveling._ It didn’t totally fit together, though. How could one person, relatively new to the ‘Wealth, do this much wandering when she lived as a farmer for so long? “This after her husband and kid had passed?” he questioned the Minuteman. Nick figured that since Nora had told Nick so early in their relationship about her family that someone like Preston would certainly know.

The question, however, seemed to summon something in Preston, something that drew away from Nick’s prying. “. . . _Yeah_ ,” he said. “After the passing of her husband.”

_Gotta back off_. “Good to hear she’s had people looking out for her,” Nick tried instead, taking an empathetic approach to talking to Preston. “She seems like someone that has a hard time approaching people when she needs help.”

Preston almost visibly relaxed. The man probably wasn’t a very good liar, and Nick considered that to be the trait of a good man. “It sounds like you’ve got her pegged, Mr. Valentine,” the younger man said, amused.

Nick half-smiled at him. “Yeah, well . . .” and he took another drag from his cigarette. “Lots of folks don’t know how to ask for help these days.”

“Well, that’s why the Minutemen are here to help,” Preston interjected with a smile, one that Nick carefully returned. “Nora has been a great asset to our cause. She really cares about people out here.”

“Make a lot of visits to settlements out here then, does she?” Nick asked, layering his voice with awe. He didn’t need to hide the fact that he was clearly impressed if what Preston said was true.

Preston nodded. “Nora’s visited every settlement out here. Established most of them, actually- or revived them by clearing out hostiles. I’ve been to many with her, but I don’t think I’ve been to all of them like she has.” He laughed, and chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s an amazing, resourceful woman. I think she mentioned to me that she has contacts in every settlement in the Commonwealth, so if something comes up, she can be there to handle it.”

_Hm_. “Pretty popular gal.”

The Minuteman laughed. “You could definitely say that. Never seen anyone so determined or so connected.”

Nick laughed with Preston, starting to put two and two together. “How many settlements are even in the Commonwealth?”

Preston frowned a little in thought and shrugged. “Maybe. . . about 30?”

Nick nodded. “Wow.” _At least 30 informants all across the Commonwealth. That’s quite a network. No wonder she wanted some time away from all that in Diamond City_. _Must be how she’s so easily able to conduct her caravan business- she’s been_ everywhere _._ “You know anyone else she travels with?”

Preston frowned. “Mm. Well I know she traveled with Danse, and of course there’s that dog of hers. Uh, and then I think there was Deacon, and Hancock.”

_Deacon_? “Who’s Deacon?” Nick asked bluntly, and took another puff of smoke before dispelling it from his mechanical lungs. Deacon didn’t sound like a real name, that was sure. So someone who wanted to keep their name hidden. But at the same time, something in the back of Nick’s mind told him that he had heard that name before. What was it, though?

Preston shrugged loosely. “Dunno. Some smooth-talker. Kind of a city-type I think. He doesn’t like the Minutemen much, though I don’t understand why.” Preston sniffed, almost as if it were a personal affront that this person didn’t support his cause.

“Sounds like quite a character,” Nick tried to play along. “You happen to catch what he looks like?”

Another shrug. “He’s a pretty fine dresser, I gotta admit that much. Was wearing slacks and a sweater vest when I saw them together. Bald, and he had these huge pair of sunglasses.” Preston held up one free hand, making a circle by connecting his thumb and middle finger over his eye.

Nick thought in silence. It sounded like Nora’s brother, almost, if not for the nice clothes. The detective lifted his head a little. “Hm, yeah I think I might know him. He doesn’t happen to have an old Boston accent, does he?”

At that, Preston shook his head. “No, no accent that I could hear, at least. Just a real plain guy.”

_Could still be him; it’s not hard to mimic an accent._ Nick thought carefully. “Did he happen to say what his occupation was?”

Preston looked thoughtful for a moment. “Hm. I think he mentioned owning a store. Might sell chems; he said he needed a geiger counter.”

_Chem-selling might make sense. His clothes don’t sound like they’re much of a common look around folks these days_ , _but if he makes a pretty penny selling chems that wouldn’t be abnormal. Must be adjusted to some settlement, a pretty well set-up one at that if he was wearing such nice clothes. Now where do people dress like that? Diamond City upper-stands, but I would of heard about that. Covenant maybe, but they never leave their compound._ Could _be Goodneighbor, but that doesn’t sound like their usual get-up-_

“What’s with all the questions, anyway? You know him?”

Nick startled from his thoughts, and realized with annoyance that his cigarette was all used up. He flicked it from his hands to the ground and stomped on it, putting the embers out. “Thought so, but it sounds like he might be a different guy.” _Maybe . . . but what reason would Nora and her brother have to hide their names?_

Preston looked at Nick curiously. “You lookin’ for someone?”

The detective sighed. “We’ll see.”

The Minuteman seemed uncertain in this answer, but kindly offered, “Well, good luck, either way. You need anything else?”

“Yeah,” Nick said, suddenly recalling one of his main intentions for journeying with Nora in the first place. He turned his head to look at Preston from the corner of his eye. “What do you know about the Angels?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> technically could have broke this up into 2 chapters i think, but it's been a few days since i updated so- extra long chapter for you faithful readers!!!
> 
> huge shout-out to my first reviewer- CallingtheMaker- thank you for your kind words and for your enthusiasm!! Your review gave me the energy and motivation to post the next chapter- thank you so much for reading, everyone! i'll try to post the next chapter tomorrow :) thank you all again!!


	9. Investigate

“The Angels?” Preston asked to clarify. “What do you want to do with the Angels?”

“I’m a detective, Mr. Garvey. This is kind of what I do,” Nick supplemented.

Preston made a bit of a show, making a face that expressed disbelief. “Who hired you for _that_ wild goose chase?”

“A willing client,” was all Nick said in reply, but observed in the back of his mind that Preston still had not yet answered his question.

Preston scoffed softly. “Some client.”

“No matter, they’re a client nonetheless, and I just want to ask you a few questions about what you may know about the supposed Angels.” Nick tried like heck to take on a persona of being in control, but felt like he had the opposite of exactly that. He threw in that ‘supposed’ to Preston, though, to set him more at ease if he knew anything and was more hesitant to share it. It was much easier for people to reveal information that _may_ be accurate rather than totally reliable.

With that, Nick breathed in and out mechanically, expelling the unfiltered air from his fake lungs. “So, Preston, please, tell me what you know about the Angels.”

The man continued to be hesitant, but something began to show in his dark eyes. Nick noticed keenly as he adjusted the grip on his rifle, and darted his gaze away so they wouldn’t meet the detective’s. “Well, what do you want to know about them, specifically?”

Nick tried to push the excitement building up in his gut – it felt like there was really something going on here. And of all people, Preston surely seemed like a good man- he’d spill for Nick. “Just start with the beginning, Garvey,” he soothed, not wanting to spook the man. “What do you know of them?”

Preston lifted and released another careful sigh, something akin to guilt almost flared in his eyes. “Okay, but, well, listen – how serious is this?”

The detective synth kept his hands in his coat nonchalantly, but he felt immediately grateful he had because he could clench his fists tersely without drawing attention to himself. “A man’s son was murdered, and the reasons behind it were unknown.”

The guilt Nick recalled seeing earlier came back stronger, now, and Preston slightly bowed his head to look at the his boots. “I . . . admit that I am not totally aware of what happens with these Angels. I certainly did not believe that they would . . .” His voice trailed off. Whether he stopped speaking because he was shocked or upset couldn’t be said.

_He knows something, all right_ , the detective’s voice in Nick head couldn’t help but observe. _He damn well knows something and he’s gotta spill it._

Nick took in a careful breath of air, then proceeded to take a cautionary step towards the Minuteman. “Garvey. . .” he started, trying to be amiable. The Lieutenant lifted his head, and Nick implored him with the deepest sincerity in his voice. “It’s more than just that; people have died at the hands of the Angels, at the hand of someone who dispenses justice without thinking about what may happen later. Families starving, children left without parents, all in the name of what someone thinks justice is.” The detective looked on somberly. “I just need to know what you know, so I can bring real justice to a grieving, hopeless father.”

Something real flashed deep in Preston’s eyes, and the detective knew he had him. The Minuteman pressed his lips together thoughtfully, and nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll tell you what I know.”

Carefully, and what he hoped was reassuring, Nick smiled.

(**)

“Thank you, Mr. Valentine,” Preston said in farewell a little while later, looking physically relieved as he smiled at the detective. After speaking the truth, he was a free man, unburdened by lies and subterfuge. “Please don’t hesitate to come visit us!”

“It would be quite a walk. And no, Preston, thank _you_ ,” Valentine returned, still touched by the kindness offered by the good Samaritan. “You’re really helping people out here, and more.”

“Well let me know if you need anything. We’re always here to help,” he shifted his laser rifle in his hands, and started to turn like he was readying himself to move on to the rest of his patrol.

Nick nodded and glanced down at the crushed cigarette below his shoes. “Will do,” he said, mind still clamoring with a jumble of thoughts as he considered what Preston had revealed to him.

“And hey, Mr Valentine?”

Nick lifted his head, wordlessly acknowledging Preston. The young man looked at him carefully, but there was a kind of smile behind his eyes. “Take care of Nora, alright? She needs people to look out for her – she’s so busy wrapped up in taking care of others. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

There was no denying the warmth that passed through Nick’s chest, and he nodded in affirmation. “Of course.”

Preston’s only response was a grin, and he turned to begin walking up the street to what Nick was starting to think of as the Main House.

Nick watched the leader of the settlement walk up the path, and then he turned to gaze at the south, where he could see the sun beginning to rise over the eastern horizon. The stars high above in the sky were starting to fade as the inky blue softened into the gentle robin’s egg of dawn. A low chatter was starting to pass through the settlement, and somewhere, Nick could smell the distinct scent of cooking tatoes and carrots stewed together in a make-shift breakfast.

In the end, Preston hadn’t known a whole lot about the Angels specifically, but he was able to clear up a few of Nick’s theories that he had about them.

For starters, the Angels absolutely were a league of assassins – not just one person magically moving across the Commonwealth committing murders.

Secondly, the Angel’s had a tie with the Minutemen, and possibly other factions across the ‘Wealth, a deal, of sorts.

And third. . .

Nick sighed, and desperately ached for a cigarette.

Third, Nora had ties to the Angels.

When Preston had explained the Minutemen’s partnership with the Angels, he had the decency to look a little bit ashamed, but found defenses for his actions, regardless.

(**)

“ _More than once, the Angels have helped nearby settlers with aid against invaders. For a while it was Nora’s job defending settlements as part of the Minutemen, but it got to be too much for her, and sometimes she wouldn’t be able to go places soon enough to protect them from an oncoming attack. And even nearby Minutemen from neighboring settlements weren’t enough to prevent the deaths.”_

_Preston’s eyebrows arched into something like sorrow. “People started dying. . . A lot. Nora couldn’t take it anymore, so she solidified the partnership with them-_ _the Angels_ _. She-she’s always like that, carrying all the guilt and the weight of the world on her shoulders._ _It’s too much for anyone to handle.”_

_Nick remained stoic and silent, trying to numb the pressured betrayal he felt that Nora had yet to disclose such vital information to him. Did this technically make her an accomplice?_

_The detective felt cold, and he wasn’t even sure that was supposed to be possible._

_He forced the emotion out of him as best he could,_ Get ahold of yourself, Nick, _he told himself._ Back into detective mode. Gotta learn more. _Golden eyes stared hard into Preston’s brown. “So what do the Angels get in return for aiding the people of the Commonwealth?”_

_Preston shrugged. “Usually some form of payment, often caps, I believe.”_

_Nick couldn’t help but be reminded of old gangs, beating up businesses by offering protection in the exchange of money, always hinging on the ‘it could always be worse’ part of folks’ minds._

_Wisely, Nick didn’t add to this, but chose to expand his questioning, and he recalled Preston talking about Nora and her 30 contacts. “So – how does the communication work between her and the Angels?”_

_The man smiled sadly at that. “I wouldn’t know, and I don’t even know if she still communicates with them. It wasn’t long after the deal was arranged between our two groups that she quit her role as General.”_

_It was easy enough in Nick’s mind to put the pieces together. “So. . . who communicates with them for this settlement? Like if you need help?”_

_Preston jutted his head to something over Nick’s head, and the detective turned for a quick glance as he regarded the settlement behind him. “We have a signal relay that we turn on in case of an emergency. It isn’t long after that when a group of them will sweep through to eliminate the target.”_

_Nick grunted in acknowledgment when he saw the tall dish and signal relay set at the peak of the settlement. He turned a thoughtful eye back to Preston, “So who ensures that the Angels get their fair share of payment in this scenario? What kind of enforcement do they use?”_

_From this question, Preston looked pleased enough to answer. “No enforcement, actually. I can’t recall a time they forced us to give more than what was offered.”_

_Nick frowned thoughtfully,_ _then lifted his head again. “What do they look like?”_

_Preston nodded. “Always a dark jacket with wings_ _drawn on the back, usually in white_ _._ _They all wear_ _dark_ _pants, and_ _have on_ _helmets, sunglasses of some kind, and_ _bandannas_ _across their faces._ _I couldn’t identify one otherwise, though._ _”_

_Identity protection. Made sense. Nick nodded in understanding. “When they come through, have you ever recognized one of their voices? Any of them sound familiar?”_

_The Minuteman shook his head._

“ _How long does it usually take them to get here once the relay is turned on?”_

_Preson shrugged. “Not long. Several minutes, at most.”_

_Nick nodded, taking this to mean that some were likely close by. Feeling like he had a good grasp of what information had been established, the detective tipped his hat. “That should be all for me, then.”_

_As Nick was about to excuse himself, Preston couldn’t seem to help himself as he took a step towards Nick and brashly grabbed the edge of his arm sleeve. “Hey, you’re not going to hurt Nora, right?”_

_(**)_

Nick sighed and shook his head from where he stood at the riverbank, unable to fight back the internal feelings of nausea and disgust at being asked a question like that. Even now, after the conversation, he couldn’t help but replay it over and over and over again in his mind. Of course he wouldn’t hurt Nora, but it hurt him to be asked if he would. Yes, this investigation was important, maybe one of the most important cases he had ever pursued, but to the point of harming someone he almost was considering to be a friend? And a _partner,_ at that? Just. . . unthinkable.

Peering down at the stream, Nick watched the dark water trickling over the rocks, and found himself drawn to the lull of the stream and the easy passivity it offered. Without really putting thought into it, Nick found himself walking down to the side of the stream, standing on the crest in the dirt that let him look down at the rocky bank. Further down, the detective could see a large water purifier standing up out of the current, tall and strong.

“Quite a benefit for them to have this here,” Nick spoke to himself. He looked around thoughtfully, observing the trees on the far side of the stream, and even spotted a feral dog drinking water at the bank. Unaware of Nick, it drank indifferently, and when it was done, lifted its head and looked around before retreating back into the forest.

Nick carefully looked back up the hills to the homes of Sanctuary, and he found himself gazing at rows and rows of crops in an open field that used to be a playground. Rows of corn, tatoes, razorgrain, mutfruit, melons, and gourds faced the detective, and he marveled at the efficiency of the settlement. The farmers crouched low in the soil, tending to the plants and taking care of them as needed, while those suited to security patrolled the area. Near the top of the hill at the Main House, Nick saw Preston speaking to Danse. The Brotherhood member nodded, speaking in turn to Preston, and made a noticeable glance to Nick. Both hurriedly looked away once realizing they’d been spotted, and Nick chose to sit at an abandoned picnic table overlooking the stream.

The detective waited patiently, and found himself enjoying the scenery as he watched the Commonwealth sun rise up, glowing a blinding bright yellow.

It wasn’t long after Nick seated himself at the picnic table that he heard footsteps approaching. Nick went very still, listening, and then turned when said approacher entered his line of sight. “Morning, you,” he greeted.

“Morning,” Nora returned. Her eyes seemed bleary from waking up, and her hair was unbrushed, but the morning sparkle in her jewel-green eyes was unmistakable. She yawned again, mouth stretching wide, then went to sit close to Nick, their thighs carefully touching each others’.

Nick shifted slightly where he sat, trying not to feel awkward, but doing just that, anyway. “Sleep good?” he asked, feeling like his throat was dry and that maybe he needed a vocal tune-up.

Nora nodded, and perhaps it was unconscious, but she leaned over so she rested her head against his shoulder. “Pretty good.” The two fell into silence for a handful of moments, and then Nora was the one to say, “A little birdie said you were asking questions.”

_Preston, that little snitch_ \- Nick thought quietly. “Oh yeah?” he said, instead of really addressing it. “And what about it?”

Nora yawned. “I think it’s understandable. I’d say that we still don’t totally know or understand each other completely yet, including our backgrounds.” Nick waited, and Nora sat up so she could look the detective straight in the eyes. “So I think if you have any questions, you can come to me directly, next time. And also-” she poked his chest good-naturedly. “You apparently know some of my skeletons, so I want to know yours.”

Nick couldn’t help but press his mouth together and lean back a little as Nora invaded his personal space, but he had to admit that what she proposed was fair. Perhaps it wasn’t the most polite thing to do, going around asking others about her backstory instead of just saying it up front. Typical detective.

But he had important questions to ask her, as well. It wouldn’t be responsible of him to not ask, not when it concerned the murders of so many people.

Ashamed, Nick bowed his head slightly. “Sorry, doll. It won’t happen again.”

_Later. Not now. . . I’ll ask her later._

He glanced up just in time to see her smile gently at him, and she flicked the brim of his hat up so that the warm sun shone on his face. “It better not,” she teased, smiling like the cat who had caught the canary.

Nick blinked, a little taken aback, and was startled when he got caught up in the endless pool of Nora’s green eyes. They shone, even behind the smudged glasses, and he was immediately reminded of long grassy fields in warm forests, meadows with flecks of brown and even gold shimmering in their depths.

Something pressed hard against Nick’s chest, something the detective hadn’t felt in a long while as he stared at his elusive companion. As a synth, he had thought he never would have felt something like this for the rest of his existence-

Nick felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“It – it won’t, doll,” he stammered in response. _What’s wrong with me?_

She grinned, pleased enough with his reply, and leaned back into the bench, her back resting against the edge of the old picnic table. “Good.” Nora got comfy, slouching a bit where she sat, and lookedto Nick from the corner of her gaze expectantly. “Now spill it. I want to hear everything about you, Detective Valentine.”

Nick chuckled, still wondering at the visceral reaction that somehow left him feeling breathless for the first time in maybe 100 years. “Y-you sure, doll? Sure you want to spend time just listening to an old bot blabber on?”

He noticed the smallest tic in her eyebrows when he said that, and she layered her voice so it sloped thickly over her words. “Of course,” she murmured.

The barest hint of hesitation held Nick back. He had never spoken to anyone about his past, except for Ellie, but this felt so much more significant talking to Nora. It felt heavier, like there was greater weight disclosing this information to her.

Like something would change.

But then Nick thought of all the goodness Nora had done. He thought of her risking her life every day for the people of the Commonwealth and how she only did right by them for no selfish gains. He thought of the gentle way she would pet Dogmeat when returning to Home Plate, and how she put up with Nick and his prying, even this far.

At Nick’s prolonged and thoughtful silence, Nora’s smile started to slip. “Nick,” she started. “You don’t actually have to -”

Nick inhaled carefully, and then let it out slowly. “No, no. It’s fine. I suppose it’s a fair trade, after the prying on my end.” He smiled kindly at her. “A detective’s life is never easy, I suppose, but kicking the nosy habit might be worth looking into.”

She laughed softly and smiled non-concomitantly. “Sure thing.”

The old synth heaved a weary sigh. “I suppose I should start with when I arrived at Diamond City . . .”

(**)

“It’s a long story, but I hope it helps, even after the loss of your family. I know you can find a place for yourself here.” Nick chuckled, and added carefully. “From the looks of it, seems like you have. All across the Commonwealth. Everything you’ve built. Sanctuary. The Settlements.” His praise was genuine. “It’s amazing, doll.”

Nora kept silent, her gaze staring down at the trickling stream below her. Nick’s keen eyes caught her fingers absently picking at a loose thread in her jeans, and he waited patiently for her to say anything more.

She took her time coming up with a response, and she said something that surprised him. “Thank you, Nick.”

He watched her like a hawk, “Sure thing, doll,” he said, trying to lace some brevity into his voice. When she didn’t look at him, he felt some concern edge into his question, but his detective’s sense was going haywire. “You need to get something off your chest?”

She heaved a heavy sigh, then looked back to him with a careful smile. “Not yet,” she said. Nick saw sadness deep in her smile, and her eyes, but he chose not to press her further, though he couldn’t help but feel a little tender that she hadn’t chosen to confide in him.

Respectfully, he tilted his head to her. “Well let me know if you need anything.”

In a surprising move, her hand went to pat his thigh just above his knee. Nick stilled at the contact, but allowed it, and looked to her in surprise. She smiled gently toward him, and there was something grateful in her gaze. “I’ll remember that,” she promised.

Nick might have blushed, feeling like this moment was far more intimate than he expected it to be. “Ready to get a move on?”

Nora smiled, and stood to her feet.

He.. He’d talk about all this Angel stuff with her a little bit later, when he was ready to hear what she had to say, maybe.

And right now, Nick didn’t think he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank GOD, some FEELINGS holy SHIT-- maybe by chapter 30 they'll hold hands or something ahgldsjdag
> 
> if anyone has any questions or needs clarification on what's going on, feel free to ask! <3 
> 
> thank you all for reading, and thank you for your support! so happy to finally put this fic to light
> 
> will try to upload the next chapter tomorrow!!
> 
> thank you again, hope you enjoyed it!


	10. I Don't Know This Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and Nora have a heart-to-heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY!!!! CONTENT WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER!!!!!! please take care of yourself and your own mental health.
> 
> \--warning for discussion/mention of domestic and child abuse, sexual assault, disbelieving victims. basically just nora and nick debating ethics and whether it's just for the Angels and what the syndicate of assassins is doing. not really plot-relevant, nothing that you'll need to know later or anything- just gives greater insight on what the characters think and stand on everything that's happening.
> 
> will tag at the part of the discussion when it gets there.

The duo stayed in Sanctuary for a couple of days, and while Nick had plenty of chances to ask Nora about her involvement with the Angels, he could never find the right moment to question her. Even when they were alone, they were never far from someone who might interrupt. And besides, Nora spent a lot of time working on the settlement. She performed tasks like repairing and constructing buildings, and tending to the fields. Running errands for people who needed spare supplies or an extra bit of food to get them through the day, damn kind woman as she was. By the time it was evening and Nick could grab some time alone with her, she was too tired for anything close to a conversation, let alone an interrogation.

Nick helped her from time to time, when she requested it. With his additional mechanical muscle, they built guard towers together, and he stood at her side as she assigned aimless settlers to secure the settlement. They were never upset at their assignment, though, more than happy to have something to do to help build up Sanctuary (and to help pass the day, if they were honest with themselves). Nick watched, impressed, as Nora spoke in polite yet firm tones to the people. He had to say that some of the people even seemed _happy_ for Nora to give them something to do.

“Why don’t they just assign a leader at the settlement to make these decisions for them?” Nick asked one hour late into the day. The sun was setting low over the western horizon. He and Nora sat in the two lawn chairs in front of her house. Nora lounged tiredly, nursing a cold beer in one hand. She looked on wearily at the settlement, but Nick knew she felt pride for the people.

“One day at a time, Nick.” She sighed long and slow. “Just gotta take baby steps.” She took another sip of her drink. Valentine looked on at her a little mournfully, and wished there were more he could do.

“Well, I’ll help how I can,” he offered.

She smiled offhandedly. “Thanks, Nick,” she murmured.

Nick kept a watchful eye on Nora during their couple of days in Sanctuary. All in all, it was great, getting to spend time with Nora and get to know her more. He enjoyed familiarizing himself with her little quirks, and discussing different topics like how she liked Diamond City, and he told her more about some of his own adventures out in the Commonwealth during the working part of the day.

Every once in a while, though, Nick would see Nora looking up the hill behind Sanctuary Hills. He would watch as her eyes would grow misty and stare off into the distance like she was looking for something millions of miles away. She would shift into a perturbed quiet and go so completely still, like a deep pool on a dark night.

Nick thought she looked lost.

“Everything all right?” he would ask her softly when he caught her staring at the hills beyond the settlement.

Clarity would again return to her eyes when she turned to look at him, and the grief deep in her gaze would slowly evaporate like dew in light of the morning sun. “Yes, Nick,” she would say, her voice quiet, soft, and warm. “It’s – I’m fine.”

Nick watched her from the corner of his eye, a cigarette balanced precariously between his fingers. He kept his expression mild, but he saw the weariness weigh heavy on his companion, even after alleviating some of whatever baggage she seemed to carry.

Her glances to the hill over Sanctuary grew more and more frequent, and that was when Nick knew that it was close to her wanting to move on. It was like an itch. Her replies to settlers were more blunt and sharp, and she would linger on her PipBoy, looking at the objectives she had set for herself.

“Time to get a move on?” Nick asked at the dawn of the third day, where she stood in the living room of her house, staring out at the settlement.

Nora took a deep breath, then let it out long and slow. She looked to Nick, and nodded curtly. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Let’s get going.”

Nick graced a small smile, then followed her as Nora led the way.

(**)

“I’ll be back, Preston, but don’t expect me for a while,” Nora said as she gave report to the Lieutenant General. “There are some settlements requesting assistance, so I’ll be gone, but I’ll come back eventually.”

Preston smiled, “I don’t doubt it, General. You be careful out there.”

“Will do,” was all Nora said. She adjusted some things in her pack before slinging it over her shoulder and gesturing for Nick to approach. “Take care, Garvey,” she said in farewell.

Preston clasped her forearm, and she returned it, determination lining his face. “Keep out of trouble, yeah?” he said.

Nick chuckled. “I’ll keep out of trouble if _she_ does,” and he couldn’t help but think of the assembly plant Nora had put on her checklist of places to go and clear out.

From behind him, Nick suddenly heard footsteps approaching. He turned carefully, and made tense eye contact with the Brotherhood Knight, Danse, who looked at Nick with nothing less than absolute disgust. Nick pressed his lips together, but kept his expression neutral as the soldier brushed coldly past the detective. Danse’s lips curled up into a sneer. “Valentine.”

“Danse,” Nick returned just as cold.

It was enough acknowledgment from Danse, because he turned back to Nora, who watched the knight carefully as he approached her, then went to salute the dark-haired woman. “Stay safe out there, Knight,” he said to Nora in farewell.

Nora was quiet for a moment, and spoke softly. “You too, Danse.”

The soldier nodded once, then turned to Preston smartly. “Anything need attending to right away?” he asked, curt and prompt, a soldier through and through.

Preston shook his head, a small smile up one side of his lips. “No, not right now, Danse. Thank you, though. I’ll alert you if anything comes up.”

Danse looked between Preston, over to Nick, then back to Preston again. “..Alright,” he said, plainly uncomfortable, somehow. “Business as usual, then. I’ll carry on.”

“Sounds good,” Preston murmured.

And it was subtle, Nick almost missed it. Paladin Danse saluted Nora and Preston one more time, then swept past the both of them toward the garage where he kept his Power Armor.

As he went by, his right hand reached casually to Preston’s arm, and brushed his finger at the elbow. A quick, meaningful glance, and warmth in human cheeks.

_Ah_ , Nick couldn’t help but think, amused as he watched the heat rise up to Preston’s face. _So that’s how it is..._

Nick glanced to Nora, who looked at him quickly before turning her gaze away, looking embarrassed by how Danse continued to address her. The detective said nothing.

The attention of both was drawn away as Nora’s black and brown dog bounded toward the woman with a joyful bark, falling into whines and tail wags as he lapped at her face in farewell. Nora couldn’t help the small giggles of laughter as the dog bounced and pressed himself against her, whimpering joyfully at the attention Nora gave him. “Good boy, good boy,” she laughed, hugging the dog and trying to shield her face from his slobbery tongue. “Take care of everyone here, boy; be good.”

Dogmeat yipped at her, gave her one more lick on her face, and went to go stand next to Preston.

Nora stood up with a laugh, wiping her face with her flannel sleeve before turning to Nick. “Alright, Nick. Let’s go.”

Nick nodded once, and put out his cigarette beneath his foot.

(**)

“Do you mind if I ask you a question, about the Brotherhood?” Nick asked, not long after the pair had left Sanctuary. The Red Rocket was just behind them, with Concord stretched out below. The sun rose clear and bright in the sky, brightening the clear blue of the day that stretched across the horizon.

Nora answered easily enough. “Sure.”

“You mentioned a few nights ago that you were desperate when you joined them. . . Why? What were you desperate for, I mean.” The detective took one step aside to let her walk ahead of him, and she took the trail easily in front of him, so he didn’t get to see her expression when he asked about her history with the Brotherhood of Steel.

Her responding question was curt but teasing. “Why the interrogation?”

“Not an interrogation. Just a query,” he amended in turn. He looked at her full-on, intent on getting the whole story related to her past. She may have ended his path towards answers when he was asking Preston questions, but that didn’t mean his curiosity was any less potent. “And you said that I should ask you upfront any questions. I’m just following the rules, doll,” he smirked at her, saw as she rolled her eyes, but was smiled nonetheless.

“Fine, fine, fair enough,” she said. “I’ll give you that one.”

He waited in curious silence, waiting for her to supplement their conversation. After a moment, she seemed to find the words she was looking for. “I joined the Brotherhood because. . . they had what I needed, at that time in my life.”

Nick watched her while they walked, and he listened to the tandem of their steps as they went. “And what was that?”

“Stability,” she replied promptly. “I knew I couldn’t survive as a farmer on my own, and I wanted safety. The Brotherhood-” she paused, “they gave me a people to go to. Something I could call my own.”

God if _that_ didn’t strike a cord with Nick, nothing she ever said would. “I understand,” he rumbled in reply, thinking of his little detective office with the glowing heart hanging in the alley. “You want something to stake a claim on for yourself. Something no one else can take from you.”

She nodded in affirmation from what he said, and looked at him from the corner of her eye. “Exactly. The Brotherhood seemed, at the time, to be strong. There were so many, and had so many resources, that it was safe to want to join their cause. . .”

Her words trailed off, leaving Nick to feel in the gaps. “Something changed?”

“I thought they would value the old world’s ways. I thought they were soldiers with honor and bravery who strove for truth,” there was an edge in her voice. Nick just barely caught it before it slipped away.

_Huh. The old world_. . . _“_ What were they then, really?”

Nora glared. “Bigots, a group of ignorant fools who want to believe that humanity could exist in only one form.”

Nick nearly fell over at her words, her statement causing his throat to clog up as he swallowed back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He couldn’t believe how relieving a statement it was for her to say something like that. It was clear she shared his sentiment about the Brotherhood and what they stood for.

“I stayed with them for about a month or so, which is when I started to realize what they were really about. After that, I insisted on only working for them if it was absolutely necessary for the greater good. I couldn’t risk my conscious to do something that would hurt innocent synths.”

Nora kept her eyes ahead as she walked and declared all of this to Nick. He looked to her in awe and admiration for what she said, and smiled privately to himself as he kept pace at her side, his hands stuffed into his pockets. The former-farmer heaved a heavy sigh, and looked out to the hazy skyline of the Boston ruins. “That’s what I think, at least.”

Nick waited in thoughtful quiet for a moment, but then uttered, “Thank you, Nora.”

She turned her head to look at him, a question in her eyes. He lifted his own to meet hers. “Thank you for standing up . . . for synths who don’t have the strength to stand on their own. It’s reassuring to know there’s someone out there willing to fight for the rights of folks who are different.”

Nora’s smile was soft and gentle, and her eyes crinkled at the edges as she smiled at Nick. “You’re welcome, Mr. Valentine,” she said, tone soft. “I’m happy to go to bat for you.”

Nick felt the pumps and gears in his mechanical body move a little bit faster, though he had no idea as to why.

Or at least.. he didn’t want to acknowledge the ‘why’.

And that was alright. For now.

It had to be.

(**)

Courage was a tricky thing.

It could manifest as as something entirely different for totally different people. Someone new to the Wasteland may see destroying a colony of radroaches as brave, whereas an experienced wastelander may see this as a somewhat trivial task.

In a similar way, it was easy for Nick to dig for the truth, but it was difficult, as this involved a friend, and potential partner, should the revealed truth be one he could live with.

No one was perfect; he understood that. Everyone had their flaws, their Achilles heel, the skeletons in their closet. Surely Nora had some of her own. What mattered is if, in this day and age, if it was redeemable by Commonwealth standards.

The right thing to do would be to confront Nora and ask about her communication with the Angels, but Nick was afraid of what he might find. Afraid of the skeletons he might unearth.

He knew in his cold, mechanical chest that he would ask her, given time. It was just a matter of finding the right moment.

Beyond his own sense of conflict, the altruist within the detective knew it needed to be done. There was no possible way that he could go to Malcolm Latimer and tell him that he had chosen to not investigate a lead. This was unthinkable to the detective, and he could only imagine the expression on his client -a father’s face as the detective would relay that his son’s case had officially gone cold.

In the moment, Nick sighed, and took another whiff of his cigarette, breathing heavily as he tried to ignore the guilt on his heart. Already, he had prolonged this moment for too long, and now the weight of what he needed to do felt so much heavier.

But he looked at Nora across the fire from where the two had set up camp, sitting on a log, and he looked at her good and hard. He was surprised to see that she was studying him just as intently, but when caught, didn’t flinch away. She simply straightened her back, and looked at him with an expression he could only describe as ‘wide-eyed.’ Against the darkness, her hair blended into the night, casting a visual trick that she was one with the darkness, an eternal being of shadows and endless night. The fire didn’t do anything to help with the illusion, either, casting flickering orange light about her face with ominous crackling. When Nick glanced to her eyes, it was like looking into the eyes of a stalking jungle cat.

Nick was in awe of her, and he found his mouth stumbling to catch up with his brain.

“Doll, I-um I- I need to talk to you.”

She locked her gaze with his and raised her eyebrows. “About what, Nick?” She kept a pleasant lilt in her voice, but he could hear some underlying tension beneath her words. Her tone softened further. “What is it?”

He had to break away from her stare, and fiddled with his hands as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I gotta admit, I heard some things while we’ve been traveling, about you, and I want to clear up some information with you personally. Y’know. Rather than spread any misinformation around, or think wrongly of you.” Good. That sounded better than _I suspect you may play a part with the Angels and you may or may not be my current primary suspect_. _Or at the very least a lead which could point me to who the killer actually is._ Nick tapped his fingers together, a little bit anxiously.

The detective looked up in time to see Nora lower her eyes for a second in thought, and then look up to him, eyes shining true and clear. “Okay. Fair enough.” She blinked, and adjusted her position a little. “Shoot.”

Nick thought she seemed way too comfortable and prepared for this, but he chalked it up to her own experience as a communicator for the Commonwealth – if as much was true. The detective inched a little closer to the fire upon her almost casual acceptance to his questions, and he let his mind fall into full-on detective mode. Just bite the damn bullet, Nick. “Tell me what you know about the Angels.”

At once, Nora went on alert, and Nick had the plunging sensation that some kind of dance was starting. She met his stare evenly. “Not much, I don’t think most people can even agree if they’re real or just a myth. An urban legend.”

Nick was never much of a dancer. “Let’s cut the crap, Nora. I talked to Preston, and he told me that you were in contact with their syndicate – that you helped to arrange this agreement between the Minutemen and the Angels for when they were short on numbers against hostiles. I want you to tell me about that.”

She met his penetrating gaze steadily, and looked away in a guilty manner. “Okay, I just. Sorry. Sorry.” Her fingers rapped against the log underneath her. “Look – it’s just that if people knew the Angels existed, or that the faction I led was in cahoots with them, everything would fall apart.”

“What would?” Nick pried, his voice gentle and soothing, fighting to ignore the swoop he felt in his gut at her admission. Damn- he actually got her to talk.

A single brow lifted. “Essentially everything would fall apart, Nicky. The safety I secured for settlers when we made the agreement, the knowledge that if I went to sleep at night and missed an alert, the settlement would be okay regardless. Freedom is knowing that no one needs you, and it’s what I worked for.”

It was a fair enough argument, and it sounded about on par for Nora, who always worked to help others, even to the point of pushing herself to collapsing exhaustion. But - “And what of the settlers who died by their own hands?”

She glanced to Nick from the corner of her eye. “Died?” she echoed. When her words failed and she couldn’t find herself to say anything more, Nick nodded and explained.

“Part of what the Angels do is performing particular assassinations on certain people in the settlements. The kinds of people that ruffle feathers and don’t get along with others. What safety are _they_ guaranteed?”

Nora frowned at him, “Those deaths would happen either way, wouldn’t they? Regardless of the deal made between the Angels and the Minutemen.”

Nick frowned at her in turn. “But the people killed in their sleep sure don’t get any of that additional help and resources from having the Minutemen around – namely that they have to give their lives for the cause without getting anything in return. Meanwhile people they trusted get to sleep in safety and their murderers line their pockets with caps.”

Nora glared at the detective. “No one in the settlements protest it, Nick, because without the Angels, not one of them would be _alive_.”

So she did support the Angels, then. Stubbornness kept it’s root in Nick’s gut, so he refused to back down. “So you condone it, then?” he asked, bitter and sharp. “You think the people who were _murdered_ by these vigilantes in their sleep deserved to die? Doesn’t sound like justice to me, even for the Commonwealth.” Nick feared her answer, and even worse, he feared any of the oncoming disgust it might yield. Would she really condone murder?

(**CONTENT WARNING-- mention/discussion of sexual assault, rape, domestic and child abuse, disbelieving victims**))

As he expected, fire blazed fast and swift through Nora’s eyes, but while anger boiled clearly in her gaze, the only physical manifestations he noted of her anger were her fists clenched at her side. When she spoke, her voice was oddly level and cool, though her words startled him. “Have you ever been raped, Nick? Sexually assaulted in some way? Possibly by someone you love?”

What kind of turn-around question was-?

Nick flinched back at the sudden change in topic, immediately assaulted with the feeling of _awkward_. Still, he answered the question, and shook his head. “No.”

She paid no heed to his reply. “Ever been beaten, kicked, and abused by someone who said they loved you?”

Nick did not shake his head, starting to understand where this was going.

Nora went on, her words clipped, growing faster. “How about someone who suffered from something like that? Someone you must have known who endured abuse and lived in fear every waking moment of their lives? And all from someone who was supposed to love and protect them?”

Nick felt a flashback course fast through his mind, and he saw blue eyes gleaming with tears in his mind’s eye.

_Jenny_.

_Her voice filled with fear whenever he took night shift. Tears as she recalled an abusive childhood. Ugly sobs as she trembled with fear at the thought of his face becoming as broken and mangled as her brother’s. Blonde hair wet with tears born of fear and suffering._

_Her body lying on the street, white skin in a pool of red. Blonde hair surrounding her head like a halo. Blue eyes open and frozen in an expression of fear._

Back in the present, was Nora.

Terrifying, god-like Nora.

The emerald fire in her eyes was merciless. “I’ve met and seen women who have been through more hell than even I have ever been through. Beaten without mercy until their bodies or minds are about to break from the pressure, just because one prick couldn’t let go of his control.” Nick realized that the disgust he feared taking on now lay dormant in _her_ eyes as she looked him up and down with contempt. “So yeah,” she said, and her voice was bold. “Whoever they were, those people the Angels took out? They deserved to die.”

Nick imagined he would have felt a chill go through him if he were still flesh and blood as Nora proclaimed this declaration of war. The detective allowed himself to look down in shame. “Didn’t mean any disrespect, doll. To you or anyone else who suffered through that.”

She was appeased, at least for the moment, but her gaze didn’t lose any of their heat. “So what do you suggest as _justice_ , Nick Valentine? What price should such people pay for their wrongdoings?”

Nick frowned at the ground, and chose to say his words carefully, and honestly. “I don’t know, doll. All I know is that it isn’t fair for people to be killed like this without some kind of due process. These people can’t play the judge, jury, and executioner without being kept in check.”

“Who’s to say they don’t have ways to ensure that their targets are exactly as rotten as they’re believed to be?” Nora challenged, voice cool and distant.

“Then why do it all in the shadows? Why not just.. call attention to the person themselves? Tell other people in the settlement and take care of it that way? What purpose is there to go to a league of assassins to do the dirty work?” Nick bit back just as hard, frustrated that Nora wasn’t able to see it from his view and understand. “I see your point doll, people you describe who are like that that can’t get to hell fast enough, but why can’t there be some due process to sorting something like that out?”

Nora looked at him from the side of her vision like he was an absolute _moron,_ expression entirely void of the hot anger that was present just moments before. “Nick,” she said, calling his name from across the fire, her tone low and appeasing. “You ever think that.. maybe the rest of the settlers wouldn’t have believed them? Maybe they were upstanding citizens in the community, and no one would believe the victim if they said they were being abused. It’s hard to speak out, especially when you know people with take the abuser’s side.”

Shit. Nick hadn’t thought of that, and it silenced him. He had enough memory of the Old World to remember that, how it was hard for victims to step forward. Most times it was just brushed under the rug, hoped that if people just ignored or didn’t talk about the problem, that it would just go away, not exist. But that’s not how it worked. Just because it wasn’t being acknowledged, didn’t mean it wasn’t still happening.

(**//END OF CONTENT WARNING//**)

Nick watched as Nora’s shoulders lifted and fell in a sigh of resignation, and she relented, “I don’t know, Nick. But honestly? I’m not losing much sleep over the people that are gone. Even if you want to call it murder, I’d say it’s justified.” She kicked a bit of dirt into the fire with her boot, uncaring, and unmovable.

He looked away, upset, but unwilling to disclose how much her words wounded him. He knew there had to be a catch; there just had to be something they couldn’t agree with. And it had to be on their definition of what murder was.

Nick frowned a little, catching himself wanting to amend her beliefs. It wasn’t totally fair to judge her, though. Even Nick could recognize that as adjusted as he was, he was a product of a different time, when there were rules and formal processes of convicting wrong-doers. He couldn’t blame Nora if her idea of justice and right and wrong were a little more brutal to accommodate the world they lived in now. Maybe it was him who needed to let go of some things...

“Nick. . .” she called to him. He looked up at the gentleness in her voice. He couldn’t hide his surprise as he watched her come around the fire to where he sat on the rock. Nick scooted over to allow her some room, and she looked at him in a manner that was almost shy. “I’m not going to abandon you, though, just because we disagree on something like this.” He watched, entranced as she bit the corner of her lip. “I hope that’s been clear between us. I’m not going to choose to abandon our friendship just because we don’t totally align with our definition of justice.”

The detective regarded her silently, amazed at how in line her thinking was with his own. In his chest, the synth felt something in him flutter and stir as she mentioned the word ‘friendship.’ Is that what he had? A friend? There weren’t many people Nick could consider to fall under that category. Ellie certainly did, but he couldn’t think of anyone beyond that. Piper and Hancock, maybe, but, they felt more like acquaintances than anything else.

“I’d like that, doll,” he rumbled in his deep voice. He tilted his head up to meet her own eyes, and he saw the light of his glowing orbs reflected in her green depths. “And I’d like your help on this case, if you’d be willing.” Where he sat against the fire, he adjusted his position so he could look at her more steadily. “I just need you to tell me about your interaction with the Angels – how they communicated with you and some of the details around it.”

Nora was careful and considerate as she marinated his request. She looked up from beneath her eyelashes. “I have just one question to you, Valentine,” and her voice was the thick smoke that let him know she was in her negotiating mode. “What are you going to do with the Angels if you ever catch them?”

Nick kept himself as still as a statue from her question, careful to reveal nothing of his spinning and screaming inner thoughts. He, too, was slow and considerate of his words in turn. “. . . I’ll listen to their story, and I’ll pursue righteous justice from there.” He shook his head. “Besides. I’m not looking to take down the entire organization. Not what I was hired for- certainly not accommodated to do anything like that. Just.. following a lead, figuring out if one of theirs killed someone who had no business being killed.”

“Someone who didn’t need to be killed?” Nora asked, voice disbelieving. “Who?”

“The son of an Upper-Stander from Diamond City, Nelson Latimer, son of Malcolm. Got himself into trouble, I guess, tangled up in some chems, but his father thinks his son was murdered by someone in the Angels. A witness saw a person with angels’ wings on their back.”

To his confusion, Nick saw as Nora’s face paled, expression showing her shock- just the slightest little uptick in her eyebrows.

And then in an instant, it was gone, never one to allow herself to show fear. “A kid?” she echoed, voice sounding still and far-away. “An Upper-Stander from Diamond City..”

Nick nodded, sympathetic. “Yeah. I found it hard to believe, too. Scary when something like that hits close to home.” He tilted his head. “You okay, doll?”

Nora nodded, and cast her gaze aside, back to the fire. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just.. shocked, I guess.” There was something haunted about her voice, her eyes. Then she shook her head, sighed, and looked back to him with a new air of certainty. “Then yes, I’ll tell you about the Angels- whatever I know that can try to help, when I was communicating with them, from the Minutemen.”

Nick smiled to her in turn, grateful. “I appreciate it, doll. I really do.” He even dared to press his shoulder to hers. “I know it can’t be easy.. talking about this when they helped the Minutemen settlements. But.. I just want to bring peace to a boy’s father.”

Nora nodded, mute, and began to speak.

But even still, the detective’s voice inside him couldn’t help but mourn and wail, because her question about the Angels, and what he would do with them, had revealed one awful truth about her stake in this case.

_Something about this is personal to her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dialogue-heavy chapter, babes. thank you for staying through the heavy stuff in this chapter; it's never easy to talk about. 
> 
> be an advocate, listen to the people that have been put through horrible situations like this. support them, if it means just listening, or helping make a safety plan, or working on coping mechanisms, or connecting them to qualified professionals if its beyond your scope- give survivors a chance and stand with them however they need before a situation can escalate.
> 
> a link to the domestic abuse hotline, for you or anyone you fear is in an unsafe situation: https://www.thehotline.org/  
> the national suicide hotline's number: 1-800-273-8255
> 
> please take care of yourself out there-YOU'RE NOT ALONE- and if you ever need help i'm there for any and all of you. i'm never far from my phone- shoot me a DM if you need anything if it's talking or just figuring something out- i'm there. <3


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